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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



RETURN OF 
FRANK R. STOCKTON 



"The stranger at my fireside cannot see 

The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear; 
He but perceives what is; while unto me 
All that has been, is visible and clear." 

— Longfellow — In "Haunted Houses." 



RETURN OF 

Frank R. Stockton 

AUTHOR OF 

"The Lady or the Tiger'' "Rudder Grange" "Pomona's 

Travels," "The Casting Away of Mrs. Leeks 

and Mrs. Aleshine," etc. 



STORIES AND LETTERS 

WHICH CANNOT FAIL TO CONVINCE THE READER THAT 

FRANK R. STOCKTON 

STILL LIVES AND WRITES THROUGH THE INSTRUMENTALITY 
OF 

MISS ETTA DE CAMP 

First Edition 
1913 



London 

WILLIAM RIDER & SON, Ltd. 

8-11 Paternoster Row 



New York, U. S. A. 

MACOY PUBLISHING & MASONIC SUPPLY CO. 

45-47-49 John Street 



"I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.' 
— St. John 14: 18. 



Foreword 

Received automatically as explained in my state- 
ment (page 285). 

Etta de Camp. 



1 present this work to the public trusting it rvill 
overlook any crudeness, due to the great difficulties 
under which it was written, and accept it as con- 
firming my statement that man can continue his 
work after passing out of the material body, pro- 
viding he finds one yet in earth-life, as I have, 
through whose patience and sympathetic vibrations 
it is possible to write and present to the world 
proof of continued existence. 

Frank R. Stockton. 

My dear Madam: 

I want this (the above) letter as a preface to my 
book. It will also give you credit for the work you 
have done, for I am anxious that the world should 
appreciate your part in this demonstration. 

Frank R. Stockton. 



Preface to the First Three Stories 

January 27th, 1912. 
My dear Madam: 

We must work ^ n a ll possible speed on my 
stories as I have to give way soon to the others 
who are to follow me. They feel I have written 
enough to make myself known to the public and 
so wish me to retire and give them a chance. 

If you want a few good short stories before 
J go I will give them to you and go over any of 
the old ones you wish to £eep. The first were in- 
tended merely for exercises, training you to receive 
the others, and were really given to you as practice 
Work. The stories have all been thought out here 
on this plane which accounts for some difference in 
style, plot and location. 

One on this plane can readily visit any part 
of the world he wishes. This seems strange and 
hard to believe, yet it is true. I now £non> the 
London fog as well as I do the worst features of 
New York climate in its exreme changeableness. 
My association with many English writers, whom 
J have met in this life, has taken me to London 



12 Preface to Stories 

most of my time, and that accounts for the differ- 
ence in style and the English atmosphere of the 
stories which were thought out under those conditions. 

My "Pirates Three* are New England hoys, 
for that story I had in mind before the great 
change overtook me > an ^ stopped my work for 
a while, it naturally is typical of my old stories. You 
see, my dear Madam, while we do not change our 
personality here, we can change our environment. 
There is now no reason why I cannot spend as much 
time in England as in America. But it was neces- 
sary for me to get back to my old haunts to do my 
writing in order to prove my identity, which would 
have been impossible for me to do while in London, 
just as it will be necessary for the English writers to 
return to and write in their own environment, as I in- 
formed you before, and which may be the reason for 
your going later to England. Their work could be 
done here but they would not do as well as in their 
own natural surroundings. 

We have taken up much of our time with this 
talk, hut I feel it is necessary to make the explanation 
as a preface to the short stories with the English 
atmosphere. 

Frank R, Stockton, 



FIVE LITTLE MAIDS FROM AFAR 



Five Little Maids From Afar 

I am a bachelor, living quietly in modest rooms, 
where I am well taken care of by my landlady, Mrs. 
Weed. Not caring for the gay life of the city, 
I am always home early, except one night in the 
week, when I go to my club to meet a few friends 
and play a game of chess. I am very fond of the 
game, and to find a player who can beat me is not 
very easy, for I am one of the best players in Lon- 
don. As I am slow and methodical, chess har- 
monizes with my temperament much better than 
cards. 

At the club one evening, after a quiet smoke, I 
was looking about for a congenial foeman. I had 
dined well and, seated in my favorite corner, I 
was watching the groups about me. None of my 
old friends had turned up, and I began to fear I 
was not to have the pleasure of meeting a worthy 
antagonist, when I was slapped on the back with 
such force that my cigar went flying. As I jumped 
to my feet I was greeted with: 

"Hello, old chap! Come out of your dreams 
and let me look at you. I am delighted to see you 
and glad to be back on this little green isle again. 



16 Five Little Maids From Afar 

The smoke and fog seem good to one who has been 
so long away. How are you, old boy? Still win- 
ning your games, with no one to beat you?" 

This volley was fired while I was getting to my 
feet and wringing the hand of the one man I least 
expected to see — Will Stanard. The last I had 
heard of him he had gone to a distant island for the 
Government and I had lost sight of him. I was 
overjoyed at meeting him again, and I gave up all 
thought of my game for that night. He seated him- 
self beside me, the waiter brought Scotch, and we 
proceeded to celebrate Stanard's safe return to Lon- 
don and civilization. He told me of his life on the 
island of Merango, where he had gone for the Gov- 
ernment to examine deposits of valuable minerals. 
It was important that he buy up these properties as 
quickly as possible or the Americans might jump in 
ahead of him. He had dealt with strange tribes for 
many years and knew how to handle them — so the 
Americans got left, as they sometimes do. 

Stanard quickly won his way to the hearts of the 
Merangoans by presenting the latest style of a Pica- 
dilly high hat to the King and the most elaborate 
French parasols to His Majesty's favorite wives. 
The King was grateful, and the wives were so over- 
joyed with the gifts that it took all the diplomacy 
Stanard possessed to prevent them from transferring 



Five Little Maids From Afar \7 

their affections to him — the "Big White God," as 
they called him. As he well knew, it would have 
been death to him if he had allowed himself to 
accept their favors without the King's permission. 
So he set up a roof-tree of his own and was waited 
on and cared for by five pretty slave girls presented 
to him by the King. To these he gave Japanese 
parasols so as not to create undue jealousy on the 
part of the King's favorites. 

Stanard tried to induce these maids to clothe 
themselves more in keeping with their parasols. So 
he gave them gorgeous colored silk kimonos. With 
their dark skin and shining eyes they looked not un- 
like the geisha girls of Japan. In spite of all Stanard 
could do they persisted in trailing along behind him 
wherever he went, which made him look like the 
leading man in "The Mikado." However, it gave 
him great importance and made him rank next to 
the King. 

Stanard was obliged to remain a year on Merango 
establishing the official relations with the Govern- 
ment, and during that time the five little maids had 
become strongly attached to him. When he left it 
was an affecting sight to see them, clad in kimonos 
of brilliant hue and with Japanese parasols over 
their heads, standing on the shore in the moonlight, 
sobbing as if their hearts would break. It was with 



18 Five Little Maids From Afar 

great difficulty Stanard got away and boarded the 
steamer. Only by promises of more parasols and 
the most beautiful kimonos to be found in London 
and Paris did he keep them from throwing them- 
selves into the sea. 

True to his promises, by return steamer Stanard 
sent them parasols and kimonos of the most vivid 
colors and costly materials. In his letter accompany- 
ing his gifts he expressed the hope that they would 
be happy and not cry their eyes out for the "White 
God" who had sailed away and left them. They 
had served him faithfully, and he would always re- 
member them as children whom he had pleased 
through their love of gay colors. 

We talked until midnight and consumed much 
Scotch — that is, Stanard did. My capacity I knew 
to be limited to four. It required frequent applica- 
tions of Scotch on the part of Stanard to obliterate 
the memory of the five weeping maids standing on 
the shore when the steamer sailed. 

By the time Stanard's story of adventure on the 
Island of Merango was finished we were the only 
ones remaining in the club, and the tired and sleepy 
attendants were putting out the lights as a signal that 
it was time for self-respecting people to be going 
home. 

I helped Stanard into a cab and told the driver 



Five Little Maids From Afar 19 

the name of the hotel where he was stopping, as by 
this time he was reduced to speechlessness. Since I 
lived only a few blocks away and had consumed 
only four Scotches, I walked home. 

I fell asleep thinking of the five little maids left 
sobbing on the beach, and I dreamed they stood all 
in a row by my bed, with outstretched hands, be- 
seeching me to help them find their kind master. 
The dream was so real that I awoke with a start. I 
gave a sigh of relief when I realized that the hand 
outstretched toward me only contained a tray with 
my tea and toast. 

One night, a few weeks after this meeting with 
Stanard, I had spent my usual evening at the club, 
devoting the entire time to my favorite game, which 
was especially exciting, owing to the fact that my 
keenest foeman had chanced in. This caused me to 
remain much beyond the usual hour, for I was de- 
termined not to leave without beating my opponent 
and keeping up my reputation. 

I let myself into my lodgings quietly, not wishing 
to disturb the other members of the household — not 
only from a desire not to awaken them, but also be- 
cause I did not wish that Mrs. Weed should know 
at what a late hour her model lodger was returning. 

I was astonished to see a light under my door, for 
I had been particular to extinguish the gas before 



20 Five Little Maids From Afar 

leaving, knowing I would be out late and not wish- 
ing to add further to the "extras" that appeared in 
my weekly bills. My amazement knew no bounds 
when, upon entering my room, I discovered Stanard 
sitting in my armchair, dejectedly staring into the 
empty grate. When he heard me, he sprang to his 
feet and almost fell on my neck, exclaiming: 

"They are here! For God's sake, what am I to 
do?" 

"Who are here? What do you mean, old fel- 
low?" I asked, for with my mind still full of the 
points of the game I had won, I had entirely for- 
gotten the five little maids. 

"Why, those infernal dusky maids with the kim- 
onos I told you about. Who in the world would 
ever imagine they would be smart enough to find 
their way here? Curse the captain of the sailing 
vessel who brought them. What am I to do with 
them? Where am I to put them? They swear 
they will throw themselves overboard if I send them 
back, and what a scandal that would be — even a 
greater one than to have them trailing on behind me, 
claiming me as their master. Why was I such a fool 
as to have anything to do with them, anyway? I 
suppose it turned my head to be worshipped by them 
and looked upon as a god. It would turn the head 
of any man who was not used to it. It seemed all 



Five Little Maids From Afar 21 

right down there on the Island of Merango — there 
they were picturesque; here they look like freaks 
escaped from a museum. What in God's name am 
I to do with them? One weeping woman is enough 
for most men, but when it comes to five hanging 
around my neck, begging to stay with me, why, I 
feel like cutting my throat." 

I tried to calm my excited friend who, by this 
time was pacing up and down in a way that was 
bound to awaken the household. My own wits were 
too scattered by his astounding news to assist him 
with an idea as to the best thing to be done. A con- 
firmed bachelor like myself could not deal with one 
woman, much less five. Stanard was almost on the 
verge of suicide at his position. So I saw I must 
make as light of it as possible and come to his as- 
sistance at once, even if I had to adopt the whole 
five. 

"I have it, old man! Cheer up! I will adopt 
your five lovely maids until you can kill them off or 
marry them to some one who is looking for devotion 
from that color. I can claim I had a sister who 
married a native king when she went to the Island 
of Merango as a missionary to convert the heathen 
to Christianity and clothes. She fell in love with 
her first convert, and the five little maids are the 
result. She has just died. So, naturally, they come 



22 Five Little Maids From Afar 

to London to me. What do you think of that idea?" 
Stanard almost wept for joy at my offer to adopt 
the five maids, believing with me that it was the 
easiest and best way out of the difficult situation. 
We talked the matter over and then turned in for 
the few hours remaining before daylight. 

After a bath and a light breakfast we called in 
Mrs. Weed to find out if, by a very generous offer 
of several pounds over anything she could possibly 
hope to get for her rooms, she could be induced to 
take in my five nieces until they could be placed in 
some school. I had decided that the best excuse to 
give for their coming here was a desire on their part 
to be educated in their mother's country. Thanks 
to Stanard's care, they had been taught a little Eng- 
lish and some few ideas about manners and decency ; 
so they would not disgrace me. 

It was no easy task to convince Mrs. Weed that 
it was her duty to take these little heathen maids, 
and it required an offer of several more pounds be- 
fore her Christian spirit was stirred sufficiently to 
induce her to act as missionary to the poor little or- 
phans. An hour's hard talking finally dissipated 
from her mind the suspicion that I had been suddenly 
transformed from a quiet, home-loving bachelor to a 
heathenish Turk who wanted to establish a harem in 
her respectable house. 



Five Little Maids From Afar 23 

Fortunately Stanard had a good income from the 
Government and could afford to pay well for the care 
of the little maids. I got into a cab with him and 
we drove to the dock where the ship was tied up. 
When we got on deck Stanard was immediately sur- 
rounded by the five little maids, while I looked on 
with something of envy. They were very pretty and 
quaint-looking in the kimonos of varied hues, 
were most docile and quiet in their manners, as 
they shyly advanced to me and slipped their shapely 
little hands in mine at Stanard's bidding. They 
smiled in friendly greeting when he explained to 
them that I was his good friend whom they must 
obey. He promised we would return in the evening 
for them and their belongings. They clapped their 
hands with joy at the good news, and yet they 
seemed to have a doubt in their hearts when they 
saw us drive away. 

I promised to meet Stanard at eight that night 
and go with him to bring the little maids to the house. 
We decided that their strange appearance would 
excite too much comment in that quiet neighborhood 
if we should drive up in broad daylight, and under 
the circumstances we desired to attract as little atten- 
tion as possible. 

In due time we arrived at the dock with two four- 
wheelers so that we could get the five picturesque 



24 Five Little Maids From Afar 

maids to the house without a crowd of London raga- 
muffins trailing along behind. 

We had persuaded Mrs. Weed that it was her 
Christian duty to array herself in her best black 
gown and chaperone the party, since it would not do 
for the girls to be seen driving off alone with us. We 
had to show some regard for the feelings of Mrs. 
Grundy, who, while she could not possibly have 
lived on the Island of Merango, since the conditions 
there were too horribly shocking for a respectable 
dame like her, certainly did live in London. 

We found the captain anxiously pacing up and 
down, watching for us ; but when Stanard started to 
go aboard, the captain, with a wave of his hand, 
stopped him in the middle of the gang-plank and 
said: 

"I can't allow them fair ladies to land without a 
permit, sir. They came up in my charge and I am 
responsible for them. An officer of the Society for 
the Protection of Forlorn Females told me that to- 
day. I don't know what is to be done, as I sail early 
to-morrow. You didn't leave any address, so I 
couldn't notify you sooner, and now everything is 
closed up. It is impossible to remain a day longer 
on your account as I have a perishable cargo which 
much be unloaded at my next port quickly or I shall 
lose it all. I have stayed here twenty-four hours 



Five Little Maids From Afar 25 

longer than I should have done, and if you had only 
taken them kimono ladies off at once it would have 
been all right, but that officer from the Society for 
the Protection of Forlorn Females has heard how 
you was trying to import five pretty girls into this 
country, to the injury of the morals of society, and 
he told me I would be arrested if I allowed them 
to land/* 

We listened to this long speech in absolute silence 
— I with a feeling of pity for my five little nieces. 
Stanard seemed overjoyed at this way out of the dif- 
ficulty; but Mrs. Weed, now that she had worked 
herself into feeling she was doing a crowning act of 
glory in being missionary to these heathen brought 
to her door, did not want to take orders from any 
Society for the Protection of Forlorn Females. She 
protested strongly against the action of that society, 
and also against the captain carrying out his threat 
to take the little heathen maids back to the island 
when they had just arrived at the shores of civiliza- 
tion. She begged him not to put the responsibility 
of their remaining heathen on his conscience simply 
because he could not think of a way out. 

All this from Mrs. Weed, whose zeal was further 
aroused by opposition. She had started out to be a 
missionary to these little heathen and she did not pro- 
pose to be stopped. 



26 Five Little Maids From Afar 

Stanard and I, for various reasons, had not said 
a word in protest against the captain's news, for it 
was welcome to us; but I listened with amusement 
to Mrs. Weed's pleading to be allowed to take care 
of the five little maids. It may have been from a 
real desire to convert them, but when I remembered 
the hour's hard work it had taken to convince her 
of her duty, I felt it was the fear of losing the pounds 
we had promised her that lent fervor to her plead- 
ing. But the captain was not to be moved. If he 
was able to resist the tears of the five little maids, 
surely he could listen to Mrs. Weed and not wink 
an eyelash. He would not allow us to go aboard, 
and after bidding us a gruff farewell, disappeared 
below, leaving us to find our way back to the waiting 
cabs. We dismissed one and rolled away in the 
other, Mrs. Weed protesting tearfully against the 
ruining of her hopes as a missionary. 

As we got out of the cab at the door of my lodg- 
ings, Stanard declined my invitation to come in, but 
detained me long enough to whisper: 

"Great thing that, old boy! A few pounds well 
spent show brains, hey? That officer from the So- 
ciety for the Protection of Forlorn Females was a 
great idea of mine and cost less than the conversion 
of five little heathen. Ha! ha!" 

He drove off, leaving me staring after him in 



Five Little Maids From Afar 27 

amazement. So it had been a put-up job on the 
captain. I pitied him when I thought of the distress 
of the five little maids the next morning. I had never 
thought to ask, so never knew, the fairy tale told 
them for not being allowed to come ashore that night. 
Poor little disappointed maids, with your Japanese 
parasols and kimonos. May the "White Go4" 
soothe your hearts with many others even more gor- 
geous! 



"Now concerning spiritual gifts, brethren, I would not 
have you ignorant." "But covet earnestly the best gifts." 
— Paul, the Apostle. 



A MARRIED MAN'S DECEPTION 



A Married Man s Deception 

My wife and I had been married quite ten years 
before the gods blessed us with any little Wiggs. 
They evidently were pleased with the reception ac- 
corded to the first for they showered them at us after 
that. Some times two at once were left at our door 
by the same messenger until a round dozen filled 
the table. Then the gods left us, much to my relief, 
for I had to work hard to fill all those hungry mouths, 
and poor Mary had to devote a great deal of her 
time attending the nest full of the gifts left by the 
gods, especially when they were over generous and 
left two at a time. But my income had increased 
with the years, so that we were fairly well to do, 
had our home in the country, and on the whole we 
were a happy family. 

I was very seldom away from home, for I am so 
firmly rooted by habit and the roots are so deep that 
they do not pull up easily. Yet one day, when all 
nature seemed particularly beautiful and I was feel- 
ing depressed by the fact that I might not have so 
very many years left me, as I was getting on in 
middle life, I resolved to get away for a few days 



32 A Married Mans Deception 

and try and be young again. I was trying to decide 
where to go, when I ran into my old friend Darnton, 
whom I had not seen for some time. 

"How are you, old chap," he shouted, "just the 
man I want to help me out. I am going to have 
some friends at my shooting lodge and want you to 
lend dignity to the crowd ; they are all young people 
out for a good time. You will come, won't you, 
old fellow? You will not have to shoot anything 
but arrows at the hearts of the chaperon and the 
pretty girls under her care. I say, come on and en- 
joy yourself. For once in your life forget Mary 
and all the gods' blessings, single and double. You 
can be a rich old bachelor just home from some- 
where on a visit to me. The lodge is in Scotland, 
far enough away not to run into anyone you know. 
Make your arrangements to meet the train leaving 
here at ten-five Wednesday morning. I will expect 
you, old chap. Oh! By-the-way, you must have a 
more aristocratic name than Wiggs for my rich 
friend from the end of the earth. Let's see, what 
shall it be. Something high sounding and pompous. 
What do you say to Proudfoot? That sounds well. 
Don't forget now, Proudfoot you are. Well, bye, 
bye, old man, until Wednesday." 

I went to my office with my head full of Darn- 
ton's plan and spent most of the day arranging my 



A Married Mans Deception 33 

affairs in order to be able to get away by Wednes- 
day, this being Saturday I had not much time. 

On my way home I stopped at the haberdasher's 
and fitted myself out from top hat to the latest in 
neckties, waistcoats and gloves. I was bound to 
live up to my reputation of a wealthy friend from 
South Africa and found a sense of excitement in 
dressing up as the aristocratic Proudfoot, for I was 
beginning to enjoy the new personality I was about 
to assume. 

I received the usual noisy welcome from my gods' 
blessings, who were growing up to be a credit to the 
name of Wiggs. But I was so absorbed in my 
thoughts as to how Mr. Proudfoot would conduct 
himself among so many charmingly pretty girls and 
the chaperon I was allowed to aim my arrows at, 
that I failed to respond as usual to their hearty 
greetings; and Mary, observing my absent manner 
during dinner, became alarmed for fear we were on 
the verge of failure. 

Pleading a headache on account of an extremely 
busy day, and assuring my wife everything was 
booming, I retired to the library. I was sitting there 
planning out my trip, dreaming of my triumphs as 
a gay bachelor, when Mary came in to say a friend 
from her old home was coming to visit her and she 
wished to consult me as to how we would entertain 



34 A Married Marts Deception 

her. I saw then what a disappointment it would be 
to tell her of my proposed trip to Scotland, so de- 
cided to wait until I could think of some scheme to 
help me out. The next day being Sunday, I es- 
corted my wife and a part of my family to church, 
as the pew not being as elastic as the nest, could 
not accommodate all the Wiggs at one time. 

As I walked along I noticed I was beginning to 
assume the pompous manner such as I imagined 
Proudfoot to possess, for he had now become a very 
real person to me and I was trying hard to be like 
him. I am ashamed to say that I did not hear one 
word of the good Doctor's sermon, for I was too 
busy trying to think up a plan to get away without 
making Mary think me a beast to desert her just 
when her friend was due to arrive. 

I spent the next day making up my mind how I 
was going to bring it about without much shedding 
of tears, — a very unpleasant incident, especially as 
most of the little Wiggs would join in. 

I finally decided to have a telegram reach me on 
Tuesday before I left for town, saying a most im- 
portant matter of business needed my immediate at- 
tention if I wanted to save five thousand pounds. I 
would have the message come from some small min- 
ing town, as I knew Mary would do without me 
for a short time rather than lose that amount of 
money. 



A Married Mans Deception 35 

As I would not be expected to carry an elaborate 
wardrobe with me on a trip of that kind, I took but 
few things from home, depending on those purchased 
in London, and as I was supposed to be a rich old 
bachelor, I should dress the part to the smallest de- 
tail ; and so added the luxuries to Proudfoot's ward- 
rode which plain Wiggs usually did without. 

Wednesday came at last, a fine clear day, making 
me feel really young again. I astonished Mary by 
whirling her around a few times when I came down 
to breakfast. 

The drive to the station seemed short as I was 
lost in dreams of the reception Proudfoot would 
receive. I had mentally brought out all my arrows 
and polished them up so as to be ready for the hearts 
of the pretty girls and especially the chaperon. They 
were, of course, rusty from having been laid away 
for so many years, but I hoped they would be 
smooth enough to make an impression at least. I 
made a pleasant trip from London, having met a 
few congenial men on the train who were excel- 
lent for me to practice my new personality upon. I 
enjoyed the effect I created as the pompous Proud- 
foot and felt sorry for poor Wiggs left behind at the 
London station. So I was feeling in a happy frame 
of mind when we reached the station where Darnton 
had said he would meet me and stepped from the 



36 A Married Mans Deception 

compartment in as dignified a manner as possible. 

"Hello, old fellow! How are you? I am so 
glad to see you. It was awfully good of you to 
come. I want to introduce you to Mrs. Stonhall 
who was good enough to drive over with me, in 
truth, she has heard so much about you, she was 
dying to meet you." 

This was confided to me as Darnton, still holding 
my hand, dragged me to the high cart waiting for us. 
"Mrs. Stonhall, this is my oldest friend, and one of 
the finest fellows in the world. Proudfoot, Mrs. 
Stonhall." 

Her smile of acknowledgment was charming, 
showing the whitest teeth I ever saw, and her hand- 
clasp as hearty as Darnton's own. We were soon 
off, leaving the groom to look after the luggage. 
The country was beautiful and the drive much too 
short. 

As we drove up and the door opened, we were 
met with shouts of merry greeting by the young 
people who left their tea to troop out to welcome 
us. "You see, Proudfoot, what is before you. In 
trying to lend dignity to this crowd, you will have 
your hands full. There is no ceremony here. 
Everyone does as he or she pleases, so you must do 
the same. Welcome, old friend, to Merry Lodge 
and throw dull care away!" 



A Married Mans Deception 37 

Introductions followed and I began to feel as 
young as the rest, but did not forget the dignity 
required by my aristocratic name. We were a very 
jolly party at dinner. I shot a few arrows at the 
pretty girl beside me and at the chaperon as well, 
who certainly was a very handsome woman. I won- 
dered what Mary and the many Wiggs would say 
if they could see me now. I am sure they would 
not recognize me in the elegant Proudfoot, flattering 
and being flattered by the pretty girls around me. 
How their mouths would open and their eyes stare 
as I related the wonderful adventures which had be- 
fallen me in South Africa, which I had care- 
fully rehearsed in bed and during the good doctor's 
sermon in church. My imagination, together with a 
book I had bought on that country, helped me out 
until by the time dinner was over, I had forgotten 
poor Wiggs entirely and really believed I had made 
a trip to South Africa. We did not linger long over 
our cigars and wine, but soon followed the ladies to 
the large hall with the big fire-place, where they all 
loved to gather. 

Friday morning I was awakened early by the 
sound of the men and their pack of hunting dogs. I 
was to remain at home with the ladies, some of 
whom had asked me to escort them to a beautiful 



38 A Married Mans Deception 

glen where we could have lunch in a sheltered nook. 

I came down to breakfast feeling very fit and 
ready for anything short of eloping with one of my 
fair and charming charges. But, while resolving not 
to forget Mary and my little Wiggs, and therefore 
to conduct myself carefully; I was struck with the 
thought that, Wiggs and his family being no relation 
to Proudfoot, there was no reason why I should be 
bothered with them. So I decided to think no more 
about Wiggses but rather to enjoy myself as much as 
possible as a gay old bachelor. 

I had about finished my breakfast when Mrs. 
Stonhall entered the room. "Ah, good morning! 
You are looking charming this beautiful morning ! I 
said you would find me down early. Where are the 
fair charges? Still in the land of dreams? I al- 
ways tell my children — Ah, my nieces and nephews 
I mean, of course, I always call them my children 
by adoption. Ah! in that way a bachelor can have 
a large family, Madame, with none of its cares but 
all of its pleasures. A bachelor's privilege and one 
of his compensations. As I was saying to my wife 
— Ah! No, I mean my children — Ah! My nieces 
and nephews, 'the early bird not only catches the 
worm, but usually catches a most awful cold.' 
This like most of the sayings of our forefathers is out 
of date and really not good to follow." 



A Married Mans Deception 39 

I saw that the slip of my tongue had made her 
look at me in a surprised and doubtful manner ; 
so, to cover my own confusion and control in some 
measure my almost overwhelming desire to say, 
"I am not Proudfoot but plain Wiggs," I rattled 
on with that nonsense about the early bird. As 
she busied herself with her mail, I excused myself 
and went out to cool off. 

We had planned to start about noon so that we 
could be back in time to meet the men on their re- 
turn. Darnton had given ample instructions for our 
comfort so we set off, a jolly party of six, four young 
girls, Mrs. Stonhall and myself, with two servants 
carrying baskets, rugs, etc. "A traveller, such as you 
have been, will enjoy a lunch in the wilds of Scot- 
land with all the comforts of civilization, even if we 
cannot offer you anything in the way of an adven- 
ture," said Mrs. Stonhall, who was bringing up the 
rear of our little procession. 

"Indeed, I shall, my dear Madame, and wish you 
could furnish the adventure so that I could show 
you how resourceful I am in any dilemma and how 
my strong right arm would protect you from any 
wild animal that might attack us," I said feeling 
quite like the brave Mr. Proudfoot. 

A beautiful spot surely, was the glen chosen for 



40 A Married Mans Deception 

our lunch, which was served to perfection by the 
excellent servants soon after our arrival, and the 
rather long walk in the keen air had sharpened our 
appetites until we were ready to devour anything. 

After lunching we rested a half hour, laughing 
and chatting like happy-hearted children, then 
started to explore the nooks and points of beauty in 
that part of the country, the servants having re- 
turned with the lunching outfit. I walked ahead 
with Mrs. Stonhall, who guaranteed to show me one 
of the famous spots, the most beautiful for miles 
around. 

The scenery certainly was magnificent — valleys, 
shadowed by high mountain peaks, on all sides. I 
wished Mary and the children could see this and 
resolved to bring them here when Darnton was 
alone and had no further use for his aristocratic 
friend Proudfoot. We walked on and on — up and 
down dale. Mrs. Stonhall never seemed to tire and 
had no mercy on my poor legs. I am not accus- 
tomed to walking much, especially among the moun- 
tains, so was soon in a puffing, panting condition, 
while she was as fresh as ever and assured me the 
goal was only a little farther on. Our four charges 
had turned back some time before in order to be in 
time to greet the hunters. I stumbled on after the 
indefatigable Mrs. Stonhall; and, after one espe- 



A Married Mans Deception 41 

cially hard climb we arrived at the most beautiful 
spot imaginable. I have to acknowledge it was well 
worth the effort to get there in order to surfeit my 
eyes with the beauty of the scenery, but immediately 
sat down to rest my tired legs, and recover my 
breath. 

I soon saw that if we wanted to get back before 
night, we would have to start at once, but Mrs. 
Stonhall begged for a half hour more. I was be- 
ginning to feel chilly and cramped after my long 
walk and longed to be back in front of the log fire, 
drinking hot Scotch instead of sitting there beside 
a beautiful woman with my teeth chattering. 

I had noticed a slight mist rising and had called 
Mrs. Stonhall's attention to it, but she assured me 
it would not amount to much as the day had been 
fine and dry. The mist increasing rapidly, I decided 
to take matters in my own hands, and declared I 
was going back if she did not; that I did not wish 
to spend the night there. I would be greatly obliged 
if she would direct me how to return to the house, 
and assuring her I greatly regretted leaving a lady 
alone, started to go, when I found to my horror the 
damnable Scotch mist had completely enveloped us 
so that I could scarcely see even Mrs. Stonhall, who 
clung to my arm tightly and begged not to be left to 
die in the mountains alone. It was really necessary 



42 A Married Mans Deception 

to find our way back somehow, for we could not 
remain there all night and endanger not only our 
lives, but our reputations as well. So we started; 
the way down was very steep. We had all we 
could do to keep our feet. I am afraid I swore 
oftener than was necessary, but I had to relieve my 
feelings. We had gone but a short distance when 
a hand was placed over my mouth bending my head 
back with such force that I thought my neck would 
break. Then, with a revolver at my head, I heard 
Mrs. Stonhall's voice saying : "If you make a move 
you are a dead man. I am a desperate woman. I 
have used money left in trust with me, and have no 
one who can help me as I have borrowed from all 
my friends until I cannot get another shilling. I 
must have two thousand pounds or I am a ruined 
woman. I got you to come out here in order to force 
you to marry me Scotch fashion, but I will release 
you from all claims for that amount. If you refuse 
I'll push you over the precipice which will break 
your neck. Everyone will think it an accident, so 
decide quickly. 

I knew it would be unsafe to struggle with her 
as I could not see a foot on either side. And I had 
no desire to be found dead at the foot of the moun- 
tain either alone or with the beautiful fiend who 
had waylaid me like a regular highwayman, so I 



A Married Man's Deception 43 

decided it was best to pretend I was too frightened 
to move and thus get safely back, and then com- 
promise with her as best I could, for I saw she was 
desperate enough for anything and being a strong 
woman could easily carry out her threat of throwing 
me down into the ravine below. I was not armed 
so she had me in a bad position. It would be an 
awful disgrace to have to acknowledge I was a 
married man masquerading as a rich old bachelor. 
It would be hard to prove to the people at the Lodge 
that her story was not true for we had been much 
together and I had paid her much attention, unfor- 
tunately. Surely no man ever paid such a price 
for his folly. 

The hand over my mouth relaxed enough to al- 
low me to speak, so I mumbled: "You certainly 
have me at your mercy, my dear madame, in hold- 
ing me up in this unexpected manner. Your claim- 
ing me as your husband is worthy of your brilliant 
mind, but some arrangements about that can be made 
later on. If you will kindly restore my head to its 
natural position, put your revolver back in your 
pocket and lead the way back to the house where I 
can restore my nerves with a good drink of Scotch, 
for this dampness may be the death of me, I promise 
to follow as meekly as the most devoted husband in 
the world." She evidently felt that was the best 



44 A Married Mans Deception 

thing to do, if she was to get anything out of me, 
for she at once released my head from its backward 
neck-breaking position, but still refused to put her 
revolver away. 

How we ever got back to the Lodge I never 
knew. My mind was in such a whirl over the posi- 
tion I was in and trying to think of some way out of 
it without public disgrace, that I remembered noth- 
ing until we stumbled up the steps into the house, 
almost dead from cold, dampness and the hard 
climb. She had agreed to say nothing about the 
marriage business until the next day when I could 
talk it over with Darnton. 

We were greeted with shouts of joy from the few 
people left in the house, the rest, together with the 
servants, had taken lanterns and gone to look for us. 
They were soon brought back by the ringing of a 
bell which they had decided upon as a signal of 
our return in case we found our way back alone. 
We were immediately given hot drinks, and after as 
clear an explanation as my muddled brain could 
give, I was put to bed at once, as was Mrs. Stonhall, 
who had added to the excitement by fainting dead 
away. 

I was awakened the next day about noon by 
Darnton rapping on my door. 

"Wake up, man, wake up!" 

I sprang out of bed and opened the door. 



A Married Mans Deception 45 

"How are you, old fellow! None the worse for 
your adventure, I hope. A gay chap you are, to 
select the finest looking woman we had here and 
stray off in that way. What would Mary say, and 
the gods' blessings, to such a husband and father. 
You certainly have lived up to your reputation as a 
gay bachelor, old man. She is a fine woman, and 
will make some fellow happy some day. Rather 
dangerous business though for an old dog like you. 
Ha! Ha!" 

The experience of the day before came back to 
my mind with a flash as he spoke. 

"For God's sake, Darnton, don't joke! You 
must help me out or I am ruined forever." 

I then related to him what had happened as rap- 
idly as possible. He walked up and down the room 
in his excitement at my story. 

"Well, by gad! If it were any other woman I 
would say she was crazy. She must be both a 
desperate woman and a devil. I am awfully sorry, 
old man, that our little deception should lead to this ; 
but, how to get out of it without telling her the truth 
and creating a worse scandal, perhaps breaking 
Mary's heart and ruining the future of yourself and 
children, I do not see. By gad, what a beastly 
mess! Who ever would have thought it of that 
beautiful woman? I was more than half in love 



46 A Married Maris Deception 

with her myself. Two thousand pounds is a pretty 
price to pay for a little lark. She certainly has 
you in a tight place. What can we do? We must 
settle this up at once, then break up our party 
by the sudden illness of Mrs. Stonhall. Smallpox 
will scare them all away fast enough. You leave 
this to me, old man, I got you in this hole with my 
damned nonsense about Proudfoot and it is my busi- 
ness to get you out. I will write this highway robber 
a note that will keep her in bed until we get the rest 
away, then you and I will settle with my lady. 
Don't bother to come down, old man, stay here and 
rest, I will not allow anyone to disturb you. I will 
send Williams up with your breakfast and yester- 
day's papers as today's have not come in yet. I will 
get the party started off on the four o'clock train and 
Mrs. Stonhall away before night, so bye, bye, I will 
run in again later." 

What a fine fellow Darnton is. What a relief 
to have some one take hold of things for you like 
that. 

I spent the day in the seclusion of my room. 
Darnton sent me a copy of the note he wrote Mrs. 
Stonhall, on the tray with my lunch. "Madame — I 
am breaking up our house party on account of your 
blackmailing scheme which you carried out yester- 
day on my friend Proudfoot. I shall ask you to 



A Married Mans Deception 47 

meet us both in the library at four-thirty, so you can 
leave on the six-five as I no longer wish to entertain 
a female highway robber. You will kindly keep to 
your room until the rest leave as I have given your 
sudden illness, resembling smallpox, as the excuse for 
the breaking up of our party. The physician will 
be here at two to further carry out my statement. 
I will not attempt to express my amazement at your 
act. — Darnton." 

In spite of Darnton's assistance I paced nervously 
up and down my room. I could hear the prepara- 
tions for a hasty departure going on, the luggage 
brought down, hurried footsteps here and there, and 
waited anxiously for the time to arrive when I would 
know what arrangements could be made with Mrs. 
Stonhall. That I would have to pay her a part of 
the amount demanded, even Darnton acknowledged 
but how was I to raise even half that amount with- 
out sacrificing my home. What a desperate woman 
she was to resort to such a scheme. Had I been 
plain Wiggs and a man of family I would have 
escaped all this. I was ashamed to acknowledge 
even to myself, how I had enjoyed the sense of 
importance it had given me in impersonating the rich 
and pompous Proudfoot and if the price was pretty 
high to pay for my folly, I was half admitting I 
deserved it. What a fool I had been. Well, I am 



48 A Married Mans Deception 

not the only man I suppose who has had to pay up, 
but it teaches me there is no fool like an old one. 

The last member of the party had driven off. I 
then heard Darnton enter the house and shortly after 
Williams appeared, saying Darnton wished me to 
join him in the library. 

"All right, Williams, tell your master I will be 
down at once." 

"Very well, sir," said Williams, as he turned and 
left me in a sad but determined mood. 

I had made up my mind to stand out for any- 
thing less than two thousand pounds, and could 
manage that with a mortgage on our home and a 
loan from Darnton, who had promised to help me 
out. 

I went down feeling ready to strangle my fair 
highwayman who had held me up in this extraordi- 
nary manner, and found Darnton standing before 
the fire looking thoughtful. 

"Sit down, old man, have a drink of Scotch as a 
bracer before the fight, for I see a hard time ahead 
of us. I have sent word to our fair friend to meet 
us here in half an hour; that will give us time to 
decide the best thing to be done. The money will 
have to be paid. There is no way out of it without 
creating a scandal. She has always borne a good 
reputation so her word would carry weight, certainly 



A Married Mans Deception 49 

against yours if it is discovered you are a man of 
family masquerading as a bachelor under another 
name. What a mess my damned nonsense has got- 
ten you into, old man, but brace up, I will do all I 
can to help you. I am going to take this matter in 
my own hands; you are to sit by and say nothing 
until you are asked. I will make my lady give you 
a written release for the sum of one thousand pounds 
and get out of England or I will have her arrested 
as a blackmailer. We must pay her something, 
there is no way out of it, old chap, but by gad! I 
would like to let the law take its course with a 
woman like that, but in our position we are help- 
less. It is now time for the fair adventuress to come 
forth and claim you as her own. I will send Wil- 
liams to say we are awaiting her." 

Ringing the bell, he gave Williams the message, 
and he promptly disappeared. We waited his return 
anxiously, I feeling anything but like the pompous 
Proudf oot ; even several glasses of Scotch had failed 
to have the desired effect, so I sat weak and tremb- 
ling for the ordeal before me. 

Williams came back looking very white. "Beg 
pardon, sir, but I am afraid something is wrong, sir. 
Mrs. Stonhall does not answer, sir. I have rapped 
and rapped, sir." 

We sprang up together, looking at each other 



50 A Married Mans Deception 

with fear in our eyes. What if she had killed her- 
self as the only way out of her position. She had 
said she was desperate enough for anything, so we 
fairly flew up the stairway. No answer to our re- 
peated knocking. We tried the door ; it was locked. 
There was nothing to do but force the door open. 
It yielded to our united strength and we walked in, 
our hearts almost standing still with fear, at the 
thought of what would meet our eyes. Everything 
in the room was in perfect order. My lady's trunks 
were strapped, ready to be shipped. A note ad- 
dressed to Darnton lay on the centre-table. He 
hastily tore it open and motioned me to read it with 
him. 

"It is true. I did hold up your friend last night, 
for I am desperate enough for anything, and after 
you had all retired I took everything of value I 
could find, so I am a thief as well as a highwayman. 
I shall walk to the station by the short cut and so 
be the first of your guests to leave. Kindly send 
my trunks down to London. I am not afraid of 
your attempting to follow me or to expose me in 
any way, for I can make it very unpleasant for Mr. 
Wiggs, the so-called Proudfoot, Mary and the gods' 
blessings. He should be more careful of his private 
letters, especially when he is masquerading under an 
assumed name. I am a thief and a highway robber. 
What are you going to do about it, my friends? 



A Married Man's Deception 5f 

After all I am a woman and a desperate one at that, 
so I advise you to let me alone. Madge Stonhall" 
With a cry of joy Darnton grabbed my hand and 
danced me around, upsetting everything in his way, 
while Williams looked on in amazement, thinking his 
master suddenly stricken with insanity. He dis- 
missed Williams with a wave of his hand, and wheit 
he had recovered his breath sufficiently to speak, he 
cried: "Lucky dog! What an escape! Follow 
her? Never! What a woman! I wonder, by gad, 
what she has taken. So she discovered Wiggs, 
did she? She must have investigated before her 
hold-up on the mountain, but why did she not stay 
and force you to pay up? That is just like a wo- 
man, you never know what she will do next. She 
had a good case against you, old man, when she 
could prove you were not Proudfoot, people would 
believe you capable of any devilment. Well, you 
have had the fright of your life, old man. Come, 
cheer up! Have another glass of Scotch and drink 
to the health of your fair highwayman so bold, who 
ran away and let you off so easily. Come on, have 
a drink, old chap, while I investigate the extent of 
her theft. You will be back in the bosom of your 
family tomorrow, contented as plain Wiggs, and the 
gods' blessings will never know how near their father 
came to being a bigamist for posing as a gay old 
bachelor." 



THOMPKIN'S BLUNDER 



Thompkins' Blunder 

I. 

As Mr. Thomas Thompkins made his way toward 
home after spending the evening in a quiet game of 
whist at his club, the fog was as thick as a blanket, 
muffling all sounds, and giving to everything an un- 
natural appearance. The buildings loomed up ghost- 
like as one approached them, while the gaslight cast 
weird reflections about. 

Mrs. Thompkins allowed Mr. Thompkins a quiet 
game of cards at his club every Tuesday, as his re- 
ward for remaining passively tied to her apron strings 
the rest of the week. 

Tuesday seems an odd night to select. Most men 
would prefer Saturday to indulge in dissipation, mild 
or otherwise, as Sunday morning one is allowed to 
sleep late without inventing excuses; thereby render- 
ing it easy to restore one's head to its normal size, 
should it have seemed a trifle too large the night be- 
fore, or rather early morning, when one retired cling- 
ing to the bed-post for safety before trusting himself 
to step into that wide expanse, which heaved up and 



56 Thompkins Blunder 

down strangely, making it necessary to be careful 
and wait for the right moment before taking the 
plunge. 

And then, there are many others, men about town, 
who select Monday for any little excitement, as a 
relief from the day before, when they are of neces- 
sity obliged to bore themselves by attending service 
as any respectable man of family should who wishes 
to set an example to the children as to the way they 
should go, whether they wish to, or not. 

The prosy sermon is usually followed by a heavy 
dinner, making one dull and stupid, when one should 
be at one's best in making the round of calls on one's 
great-aunts and richer relations, who must not be for- 
gotten, lest they in turn forget. 

But much can be endured on Sunday with the 
thoughts of Monday before one, when he can make 
the night so gay, the dull Sunday will fade away 
in the bright light of anticipation. 

Still Mr. Thomas Thompkins had none of these 
reasons for his modest dissipation, and it was not his 
choice, but that of Mrs. Thompkins, who wisely 
selected that evening each week to remain quietly 
at home in order to retire early, making this an ex- 
cuse to prevent damages to her complexion, which 
might occur if she did not have one night in which 
to get her beauty sleep, and this of course must come 



Thompkins* Blunder 57 

before the clock strikes twelve, or else, as with Cin- 
derella, it will be too late ; the fairy god-mother will 
be gone. 

So, while Mrs. Thompkins was lost in sound and 
refreshing sleep, Tuesday evening of each week, Mr. 
Thompkins was allowed the night off at his club, a 
safe place for husbands who are fond of whist. 

As it was only a short walk from his house to the 
club, Thompkins never took a cab, and he decided 
that on that night a cab was not only unnecessary, 
but that his own legs were more to be depended upon 
than those of a horse and that the sidewalk was safer 
than the middle of the street anyway. 

The game had been unusually exciting, and as he 
came out of the club, the night air felt refreshing on 
his flushed and feverish face. Pulling his coat collar 
up and his hat far down, for protection from the fine 
mist-like rain, he walked on slowly. Feeling his way 
carefully and counting the blocks as he crossed them 
in order to know when to turn to the right. 

In the fog-laden atmosphere, his footsteps sounded 
shuffling and undecided as he walked with care lest 
he run into something not seen until too late to avoid 
a collision which might prove dangerous. 

"Well, by gad! My mind seems filled with this 
beastly fog as well as my throat. I can't remember 
whether that last crossing was the third or fourth, so 



58 Thompkins Blunder 

how am I to know what this one is?" said Thompkins 
to himself as he stood on the curb undecided about 
crossing. 

"By Jove ! What a silly ass I was to come alone, 
anyhow. I might have hired a boy with a torch to 
lead me, but anything like that seemed utterly absurd 
to me when I started. And who would suppose a 
thing like this would make me feel so nervous, and 
as helpless as if I had been suddenly stricken blind. 
Well I shall walk on another block anyhow and 
maybe some familiar landmark will loom up so I will 
know where to turn off." 

The inky darkness seemed darker, if possible, as he 
left the lamp-light at the corner, whose feeble rays 
seemed to penetrate no farther than a candle light in 
a dark cellar. 

"Gad! Who would suppose all the houses one 
knew from childhood would suddenly seem so 
strange and unreal," he exclaimed, as he felt in his 
pocket for a match and failed to find one. 

"Well, now, if it wasn't so late, other people 
would be about and I could at least ask the direction. 
There is nothing to do now, as far as I can see, but 
to stop here by this post and wait. The fog some- 
times lifts towards morning. If I go back it is as 
bad, for all lights were put out at the club as Stewart 
and I left. I wish now I had taken a cab as he did, 



Thompkins 1 Blunder 59 

but I was so sure I could get home all right, I let 
him drive off with the only cab in sight. None has 
passed me since, or anything else for that matter. 
All London seems sound asleep and I should be too, 
if I hadn't missed count of that crossing. 

"I'll stop here a while longer, then I'll take the 
risk of this being the right street to turn down," and 
Thompkins leaned heavily against the lamp-post as 
a stranded mariner at sea clings to a floating spar, 
until help comes. 

He changed his position often to prevent the 
drowsiness he felt from overcoming him, and moved 
his feet and arms about to keep up the circulation 
and warmth of his body, which was becoming stiff 
and cold from standing in the raw night air. 

He waited on for what seemed hours to him, but 
which was only minutes in fact, for the deep tones 
of a church clock somewhere tolled out two muffled 
notes shortly, and it had been a little after one when 
he left the club. 

"Gad! What will Amelia think if I am not in 
soon? Fortunately this is her night for her beauty 
sleep, so she is not apt to be awake listening for my 
footsteps. Well, if I stop here much longer I'll 
freeze to death and what a strange thing it would 
be if I should be found in the morning, frozen to 
this lamp-post at my own corner, when my house is 



60 Thompkins' Blunder 

in the middle of the block. That is, if this is my own 
corner and my block, but that is just what I can't 
tell. 

"I'll die anyhow if I stay here, so I'll take my 
chance at being taken for a burglar and killed if I 
make a mistake in the street. I'll turn off here." 

Turning to the right as he spoke, he felt his way 
along slowly, for in the side street the fog seemed 
blacker and more choking than ever. It was impos- 
sible to see a hand before you, so Thompkins struck 
out blindly towards the right, keeping straight ahead 
and as close to the houses as was safe, picking him- 
self up several times after unseen posts or steps 
blocked his way and sent him headlong. Mrs. 
Thompkins peacefully sleeping would have been hor- 
rified had she heard the remarks addressed to these 
objects which obstructed his pathway, raising lumps 
on his anatomy as well as wrath in his heart. 

"Gad! I wish they'd put more lamp-posts on 
this block," he exclaimed as he rose to his feet for 
the third time. "It never occurred to me before there 
were so few, for in all my experience with London 
fogs, this is a new one for me. Not many ever hap- 
pened to be as bad as this on Tuesdays when I am 
alone, and when with Amelia a cab is always nec- 
essary. 

"My, what an ass a Londoner is that he does not 



Thompkins Blunder 61 

think to provide his house with a signal light of some 
kind to distinguish it from his neighbor's, when he 
lives in a row where the houses are exactly alike, as 
peas in a pod. If I had a red light or a blue or 
green one, to be hung in the hall-way, on a night 
like this, there would be no trouble to distinguish it 
from that of Hawkes on one side, and Hobbs on the 
other. 

"Now, if James had only had the sense to raise 
the shade in the drawing-room and leave a light 
burning low, then I could see by the pictures on the 
wall, which house is mine. But Amelia has a horror 
of burglars and the gas-bill as well, so my house is 
closed up as tight as the rest by midnight ; and I, like 
other men, am expected to find my way home by 
instinct, I suppose. Well, this experience has given 
me an idea to discuss at the club, the subject of hav- 
ing signal lights before our houses to be used on a 
night like this. 

"Well, by Gad! If I get home without breaking 
my neck to-night, I'll know enough to take a cab the 
next time even if I only want to go a block, this ex- 
perience is enough for me. 

"Which house is ours, I wonder, and how can I 
ever find it in this pitch darkness with not a match 
about me. The only thing I can do is to make a 
bold dash for the one that seems to be nearest to the 



62 Thompkins Blunder 

centre of the block, and ring the bell. Whoever 
answers will at least tell me where I am, and perhaps 
lend me an escort or give me a lantern to find my 
way home. 

"Well, this is about as near the centre of the 
block as I'll be able to get if I spend the rest of the 
night wandering up and down, for, not being able 
to see a yard before or behind me, there is no way 
by which I can gauge the distance I have come since 
I turned down this street, so I may as well try this.'* 
And fumbling around, Thompkins finally found a 
bell to the door of the house in front of which he 
had stopped. 

He pulled it a second time, harder than ever, as 
his first ring failed to awaken anyone. He waited a 
minute longer, then rang again. 

"By Gad! If this is my house, Amelia must be 
sound asleep. And if it is my house, why isn't a 
light burning in the hall ? Well, by Jove, is everyone 
dead that no one comes to the door? It's a beastly 
nuisance I forgot my latch key when I changed my 
clothes. If James found I had forgotten it, he should 
have left the light burning and waited up for me. 

"I'll keep on ringing until someone comes, for 
there isn't a vacant house in the block unless someone 
has moved out since dinner, which is highly improb- 
able. Anyway, whoever comes to the door will most 



Thompkins Blunder 63 

likely know me and ask me in ; but if no one answers 
this bell soon, I'll go to the next house, and so on 
down the street if I have to wake the whole neigh- 
borhood to find my own." 

Before Thompkins could ring again, the door 
opened softly and so suddenly, that Thompkins 
sprawled forward flat on his face. He got quickly 
to his feet, but seeing no light visible anywhere and 
not knowing in which direction to move he stood still 
for a moment, waiting for whoever had let him in 
to speak. 

Then hearing no sound, he finally spoke. 

"Well, my good sir, whoever you are. I wish to 
apologize for my unceremonious manner of entering 
your house. If you will kindly do me the favor to 
turn on a light or produce a match, which I fail to 
have about me, you will see I am no burglar, but a 
gentleman, Thompkins by name, commission mer- 
chant by choice and a resident of this block from 
birth. 

"By Gad ! Man or woman, why don't you speak 
or turn on a light to see who I am?" he cried im- 
patiently, after waiting a moment for some reply to 
his excuse for intruding at this hour. 

But not a sound came. It was as silent and dark 
in the hall as in the street outside. And for a mo- 
ment Thompkins doubted his senses and wondered 



64 Thompfyins Blunder 

if he had fallen asleep and was dreaming. But no, 
he had felt the door open softly, and his badly swell- 
ing nose would testify to the fact that he had fallen 
with force on the tiled floor of the hall as the door 
opened. 

Now the silence and darkness began to terrify him 
and he felt his hair raise up on end as imaginary dan- 
gers loomed up in his mind. 

"This darkness is damnable sir, and an insult," he 
cried. "Why don't you speak up? You need not 
be afraid. I tell you I am a gentleman and not a 
thief. Turn on the light and see for yourself, or 
show me the door and let me out. I can't see a hand 
before my face, man, and dare not move for fear of 
breaking things; but you better tell me who you are 
and where I am, soon, or I'll find my way out regard- 
less of damage done." 

Thompkins could feel the thick rug under his feet, 
and that the back of the chair, on which he laid his 
hand, was richly carved; otherwise the deathlike 
silence which had reigned since he entered would 
lead him to think he had in some way opened the 
door of an empty house. 

As soon as he had picked himself up after falling, 
he knew he was not in his own house, for his hall 
was not tiled, and so was puzzled and alarmed, as his 
imagination began to work, fearing he had fallen 



Thompfyim Blunder 65 

among thieves or desperate characters, he half ex- 
pected to be attacked, at any moment, and rendered 
unconscious if not killed. He was rather surprised, 
however, if among desperadoes, that they had let him 
rise after falling. Why they had not set upon him 
then and beaten and robbed him, he failed to under- 
stand. 

He almost wished something would happen to 
break the awful silence which was maddening, and 
his nerves grew tense as he strained them listening 
for a sound, but none came, save that of his own 
breathing which grew loud with his increased excite- 
ment. 

Thompkins could stand the strain no longer, so 
resolved to move about and try to find the door by 
which he had entered. As he had no desire to be 
taken for a thief, he moved with cat-like tread, feel- 
ing his way carefully. 

"This darkness is like being in a well. If the fog 
would only lift and let the daylight in I could see 
by the light from the windows. It must be daylight 
now, as it is hours since I left the club," he thought 
to himself as he felt of the walls and objects near 
at hand. 

"Well, whoever owns this house has money as 
well as luxurious taste, to judge by the thickness of 
carpet and rugs, as well as richness of heavy por- 
tieres. 



66 Thompkins Blunder 

"This must be the cave of Ali-Ba-Ba and the 
Forty Thieves, from the quantity of elegant things 
my hands have felt in this room so far. Gad, it will 
cost me a pretty penny if I break any of these orna- 
ments, and there seems to be no end to them by the 
way I run into them. No ordinary man lives here, 
and this convinces me I am not in any house on our 
block, for no one there lives in such magnificence as 
this. 

"By Jove! How did I come to get so turned 
about that I can't for the life of me, find that beastly 
door I got in by. My, that was a narrow escape," 
he exclaimed under his breath as he caught just in 
time a large and heavy vase as it tottered on its 
pedestal. 

"Well, by Gad! That would not only have been 
smashed to bits had it fallen and wakened the house- 
hold as well, but would have smashed my pocket- 
book, for if I am not mistaken this feels like Parian 
marble and is beyond my price. 

"I see nothing to do, but to sit down on this chair 
and wait for daylight. It is comfortable and cer- 
tainly fit for a king by the way the damask is em- 
bossed." 

And Thompkins removed his Inverness and top 
hat which he had rescued after falling, and laid them 
carefully on the floor; then he settled himself back 



Thompkins' Blunder 67 

comfortably in the chair and thought deeply, trying 
to fathom the strange experience which had befallen 
him. Thompkins' fear had given way to wonder- 
ment as time went on and no attempt was made to 
murder him, so he felt free from danger, but was 
anxious for daylight to come and unfold the mystery 
about him. 

He had given up expecting anyone to answer him 
after receiving no replies to his question or remarks 
upon entering, so had ceased to speak aloud, since 
the absolute silence convinced him he was alone. 

"Well, by Jove. I wonder, did anyone ever be- 
fore meet with such a reception? Here I stop and 
ring this bell hard enough to wake the dead. Then, 
after several rings more, the door opens, and instead 
of my being met with abuse for waking the house- 
hold and told to go my way, I am met with absolute 
silence and given the freedom of a strange house. A 
strange and unexpected welcome, I must say. 

"Who opened that door and let me in, and where 
is he now? Did he pass me and go out as I fell; or 
was he frightened and so hastened up-stairs ; or is he 
now hiding in some room? I'll be hanged if I can 
fathom it out. All I know is, that I am here sitting 
down in this chair, and not outside in the fog and 
cold. 

"My poor nose will testify to the fact that I fell 



68 Thompl^ins Blunder 

as the door opened and I can swear I have heard no 
sound since. 

"If this infernal fog would only lift and let in the 
light, then I could find my way out before the whole 
household awakes and discovers me, for it will be 
rather awkward to explain my presence here in the 
house of a stranger. Well, they will soon see I am 
no thief when they count the spoons and find none 
missing." 

Thompkins yawned and stretched himself as he 
felt the desire for sleep overcoming him. 

"Gad! This won't do! I cannot go to sleep 
here. I must keep my eyes open for the first ray of 
light and get away as quietly as possible. The peo- 
ple in this house must be sound sleepers though, not 
to have been disturbed at the noise of my fall. If 
that had happened at my house, it would have awak- 
ened Amelia without doubt. 

"But who on earth opened that door and let me 
in? That is what puzzles me. 

"Well, whatever happens later, when someone 
does come, this is more comfortable than the street 
and the cold, anyway. I wish someone would come 
soon, for this darkness is not only maddening, but I 
am afraid the quiet and this comfortable chair will 
put me to sleep in spite of my efforts. I shall have 
to select a harder one if I intend to keep awake. 



Thomp fains' Blunder 69 

"But if I get up and move about, there is too 
much risk of knocking something down which may 
not only cost too much to replace, but may be so 
rare it would be impossible to duplicate it. 

"The things in this room seem fit for the king, and 
if it were not for the ease with which I entered, I 
might think that in some strange manner, I had wan- 
dered into Buckingham Palace. 

"Whoever owns this house, must have some 
strange way of lighting it, for I have felt the walls 
of this room and the hall, from the floor to as high 
as I can reach, trying to find an electric button. Per- 
haps the lights are turned on and off below stairs. 

"If I can only keep awake to see the first streak of 
light, and then have my wits about me so as to make 
my apologies intelligently, in case anyone finds me 
here, that is all I ask now," and Thompkins pulled 
himself up with a start as his head nodded forward. 

"By Jove! I was nearly off that time. I must 
do something to keep awake. If I walk around it is 
too dangerous, and if I should whistle that would 
waken someone possibly before I was ready to meet 
them, so what can I do? And what a damnable 
position to be in. This night is so like a nightmare 
that I wonder whether I am asleep or awake, and the 
experience is enough to turn my hair white. 

"I shall be asleep soon, unless something happens, 
for I cannot stand this much longer." 



70 Thompkins' Blunder 

And Thompkins* thoughts wandered on, and soon 
floated away to the unknown land of sleep. 



II 



When Mr. Burton-Standwick, of Standwick 
Square, was awakened by his butler and told there 
was a burglar asleep in the drawing room, he lost no 
time in getting out of bed and into his dressing gown 
and slippers. 

"Great Scott! Stimson, telephone for the police 
and do not let him escape," he cried, trembling with 
haste and excitement. 

"I did sir, as soon as my eye lit upon 'im asleep in 
the chair. I locked all the doors and sent in the 
alarm before I roused you, sir," replied Stimson as 
he helped the greatly agitated Mr. Burton-Stand- 
wick to his slippers. 

"Well, but Stimson, you say he looks a gentle- 
man, are you sure he is a thief? 

"I found the front door not locked and a bag of 
silver in the dining-room sir, with everything scat- 
tered about. Something must 'ave scared 'im before 
'e 'ad finished the job sir, then 'e 'id 'mself in the 
drawin'-room and went to sleep waitin' to go back 
and carry the bob away. 'E's one of them gentlemen 
burglars sir, which is so hard to ketch. 'E's in 



Thompkins Blunder 71 

evenin' clothes sir, and perfectly correct they are, 
too. And 'is top 'at and coat is beside *im on the 
floor. Oh, sir, we 'ave a great one, we 'ave!" and 
the staid and sedate Stimson came near dancing with 
joy at the idea of being made a hero, by capturing 
so fascinating a burglar as this one looked to be. 

"We better wait for the police Stimson, and let 
them wake him. He may be armed and it would 
be dangerous to go in without them," said Mr. Bur- 
ton-Standwick, nervously pacing up and down the 
room. "We mustn't disturb the ladies Stimson until 
we have to, for Mrs. Standwick is very nervous as 
you know. Still, I better go in and prepare her for 
any outbreak which might occur when the police get 
here. They'll be here soon, so you go down and 
stand guard at the door while I break the news as 
quietly as I can to Mrs. Standwick. We must keep 
this affair as quiet as possible and not let it get into 
the papers for Mrs. Standwick could not stand that. 
Here Stimson, you better give me a brandy and 
soda, before you go, for I find myself quite un- 
nerved." 

Stimson soon returned with a tray containing bot- 
tles and glass, saying he had left the under footman 
on guard in the rear and he would go down now 
to the front. 

"Very well, Stimson, I'll come as soon as I can 
leave Mrs. Standwick." 



72 Thomkins' Blunder 

A few moments later, and simultaneously with 
the arrival of the police, there arose a woman's hys- 
terical shriek, waking the rest of the household that 
ran to and fro terror-stricken. 

Thompkins wakened with a start, wondering if at 
last Amelia's long entertained fears had been real- 
ized and thieves were breaking in to steal her price- 
less heirlooms. 

As he jumped to his feet he was gruffly com- 
manded not to move or his life would be the penalty. 

The rays of daylight that were just struggling 
through between the drawn curtains, faded into 
nothing before the blaze of electric light which now 
was turned on, and by this magic touch was revealed 
the magnificence of the furnishings of the room, 
which, in the darkness of the night, Thompkins could 
only guess at. 

But the beauty of the scene was destroyed by the 
three policemen, who quickly stationed themselves 
on both sides and in front of Thompkins, who with 
beads of perspiration standing out on his brow, was 
trying vainly to stammer out some incoherent words 
of explanation for his being there. 

"That will do, sir. It ain't no use to say more 
till the gentleman comes. You've been caught with 
the goods and you better keep calm, sir," said the 
chief officer quietly. 



Thompkins Blunder 73 

"My God, man! What did you say?" cried 
Thompkins, jumping to his feet, only to be pushed 
back forcibly into his chair as the door opened and 
Mr. Burton-Standwick, flushed and panting, en- 
tered the room. 

He had been detained by Mrs. Standwick's hys- 
terics and the tears of his daughters, who clung to 
him begging him not to go down to sure death. 

"Good morning, gentlemen. Ah, so here is the 
man. Well, let me hear what he has to say for 
himself," cried Standwick, coming near for a good 
look at him, and adjusting his eyeglass for a near in- 
spection. 

"My man, Stimson, says he looks quite the gen- 
tleman, which is true," he continued as he examined 
Thompkins who lay back white and dumb, as 
though he was some new specimen or priceless an- 
tique. 

"Well, sir, what have you to say for yourself, 
coming into my house in the dead of night and try- 
ing to make off with the family silver? 

"It's a damned lie, sir," cried Thompkins com- 
ing to his senses. "I will be only too glad to make 
my explanations to you in private, if you will call 
off these watch-dogs of the law, while I speak to 
you alone. 

"I am afraid it is too late for that now, as you 



74 Thompkins Blunder 

were turned over to the authorities when I tele- 
phoned for the police," replied Standwick politely, 
"and any explanations you make will be hard to 
believe, with the silver scattered about and a bag 
of it done up ready to be carried away," he con- 
tinued. 

"All I can say to that, sir, is to repeat, I will 
make my explanations to you alone. I am not 
armed, so you need not be alarmed," replied 
Thompkins. 

"Well, officer, if you will examine this man and 
see that he has no weapon concealed about him I 
will consent to adjourn to the library with him, but 
Stimson must be present. You and your men wait 
outside the door. Come this way, sir." Standwick 
moved away with Stimson holding on to Thompkins, 
while the police closed in behind. 

Standwick took up his position in front of the 
fireplace, in which a fire burned cheerily, lighting up 
the rich and dark furnishings, and adding warmth 
to the sombre room, which otherwise would have 
seemed cheerless in the early morning light. 

Standing with his back to the fire, Standwick 
waited for Thompkins to speak without asking him 
to be seated, while Stimson stood near by to lend 
assistance with his strong right arm in case the gen- 
tleman burglar tried to escape or do injury to him- 
self or his master. 



Thompkins Blunder 75 

"Well, now, my good sir, we are alone as you 
desired, why don't you pour forth the explanations 
you are so anxious to make," said Standwick after 
a moment's silence. 

Thompkins, nervously tapping his fingers on a 
writing table, now looked up and cleared his throat, 
looking Standwick clearly in the eyes as he spoke. 
"Sir, I find myself through a strange force of cir- 
cumstances placed in a most embarrassing situation. 
How embarrassing, you will appreciate when I tell 
you I am no thief, who has stolen into your home to 
rob, but a gentleman. I am Thomas Thompkins, 
Commission Merchant of the firm of Thompkins 
and Son. I succeeded to my father's business at his 
death some few years ago. My father was well 
known in the business world for over fifty years and 
bore an excellent reputation. 

"That all may be true, sir," interrupted Stand- 
wick, impatiently. "But your father's reputation 
does not interest me, nor explain your being found 
asleep in my house with the silver packed up. 

"It will no doubt take some time, sir, for me to 
make my explanations clear to you, so I beg you to 
be patient and hear me through. I am a member 
of the Burlingham Club, and Tuesday of each 
week, I stop in for a game of whist after dinner. 
The club house is not far from my own, which is 



76 Thompkins* Blunder 

in this neighborhood, unless in the fog I have wan- 
dered in the opposite direction. By-the-way, sir, 
will you kindly tell me your name and what street 
this is, so I may know where I am?" asked Thomp- 
kins anxiously. 

"It is sufficient for me, sir, to know you are in 
my house without my knowing why you came here 
as you did," replied Standwick, gruffly. "Who I 
am and where you are is not the question at present, 
though you no doubt looked me up before you de- 
cided my silver was worth carrying away," he con- 
tinued sneeringly. 

"Stop, my dear sir, I cannot allow you to imply 
those motives to me. While I must acknowledge 
you are justified in thinking me a thief by the pe- 
culiar situation in which I find myself, still I cannot 
continue to hear you speak of me as you do. When 
I entered your house, I did it as an honest man," 
declared Thompkins, beginning to feel it very dif- 
ficult to explain to one so skeptical. Surely his ap- 
pearance and sincerity must convince anyone he was 
at least a gentleman and not a thief. 

"Well, my good sir, if you entered my house as 
an honest man, your scruples must have been over- 
come by the glitter of the silver. Come, come, 
honest men do not prowl about at night and enter 
people's houses, though it is very poor policy to fall 



Thompkins' Blunder 11 

asleep while doing it," and Standwick laughed sar- 
castically as he spoke. 

"That's just it, sir, and proof that I am no thief, 
for no thief would be such a fool as to fall asleep 
as I did. I tried hard enough to keep awake so I 
could get away without disturbing you, but the quiet 
and warmth were too much for me after the cold 
outside," replied Thompkins earnestly. 

"Well, by Jove, but you are a cool one, to tell 
me to my face you tried to get away without dis- 
turbing me. That's great. Most thieves do get 
away softly. It is not usual in your profession, my 
good sir, to be noisy or gay," and Standwick laughed 
again. 

"By gad, sir. I tell you I am no thief, and I ask 
you not to use that word again to me," cried Thomp- 
kins hotly, clinching his fists, while Stimson took a 
step nearer to him. 

"How do you account for your being here then, 
and the silver tied up," replied Standwick. 

"My God, man! What do I want with your 
silver when my own sideboard is loaded with family 
heirlooms, besides those in the chests at the vaults, 
and all solid, too. I never touched your silver, nor 
have I seen it," he cried excitedly. 

"Why did you tie it up to carry off if you have 
so much of your own? Come, tell me that," and 
Standwick chuckled softly. 



78 Thompkins' Blunder 

"The man who opened the door and let me in 
did that," said Thompkins. 

"Oh. Ha, ha, an accomplice! Then you were 
not alone?" he chuckled at the way Thompkins was 
tangling himself up. "Why did you not let him 
take it away and not put you in such a position?" 
he asked. 

"I never saw him and don't know anything about 
why he did not carry it away. All I know of the 
affair is this, sir: I started to walk from my club 
to my house last night and becoming lost in the fog 
wandered around for some time trying to find my 
home. Growing cold and more bewildered as time 
passed I determined to ring the bell of the house in 
front of where I stopped and ask my way as I felt 
I could not be far from home and possibly was on 
my own street. So, after ringing your door bell 
several times loud enough to wake the dead, as I 
thought, I was just about to give up and try the 
next house, when the door opened so suddenly and 
noiselessly that I fell forward on my face as this 
mark on my forehead will testify. I got to my feet 
and waited for someone to speak, not knowing in 
what direction to move at first in the darkness. I 
finally thought it strange no one asked my business, 
so made my apologies for intruding at that hour, but 
evidently I spoke to the empty air as I received no 



Thompkins' Blunder 79 

reply nor heard a sound. Thinking whoever had 
opened the door perhaps had become alarmed and 
gone back, I tried to find my way out; but in the 
pitch darkness became turned around, and in fear 
of breaking the costly pieces of furniture and bric- 
a-brac, I constantly ran into, I determined to sit 
down and wait for daylight in order to find my way 
out without disturbing anyone, as I realized it would 
be deucedly awkward to explain my being here. I 
then fell asleep, not knowing your silver had been 
disturbed, for as I say I have plenty of my own and 
wasn't out for the purpose of adding yours to my 
collection. 

"The real thief must have been disturbed by my 
ringing the bell, and opening the door slipped past 
me as I fell and so got away in the dark, as it was 
an ideal night for such men to be about and this, sir, 
is my explanation for being found in your house,** 
said Thompkins, who paused for breath. 

Standwick had listened carefully, his hard, firmly 
chiseled features showing no change of expression. 
"That perhaps seems a very plausible excuse, sir, to 
make. You no doubt had plenty of time to think it 
out while waiting for the daylight in case you were 
discovered before you got away, but it doesn't yet 
convince me of your innocence. 

"But, my good sir," interrupted Thompkins, 



80 Thompkins Blunder 

"what a silly ass I would be to take the trouble to 
tie up your silver, then fall asleep and let you catch 
me in the act with the goods. Don't you see, sir, 
how utterly improbable that would be? A man may 
be a thief, but he need not be an imbecile and do a 
thing like that. My reputation will bear me out in 
my statement when you look me up, and I beg you 
to call up my banker at once or as soon as the bank 
is open. 

"All the reputation in the world will not make 
you blameless in my eyes or explain your being here 
with my silver scattered about. There have been 
men of excellent business reputation sometimes af- 
flicted with the mania of being other than what their 
friends believe them to be. Whether it's some form 
of total depravity, which civilized and refined sur- 
roundings has failed to keep within bounds, or some 
mania, or stranger still, a dual personality like Dr. 
Jekyl and Mr. Hyde, it still remains for the scientist 
to discover. It is true that once in a while a man, 
who during the daytime is of most excellent reputa- 
tion, at night is a thief, if not worse. 

"That's all very true, sir, and I am quite as well 
aware of it as you are, but I don't, as a usual thing, 
go out at night unless accompanied by my wife. I 
beg you, sir, to accept my apologies as well as my 
explanations and allow me to go home or Mrs. 



Thompkins Blunder 81 

Thompkins will be frantic thinking some accident 
has befallen me. All I can do is to ask you to keep 
this matter as quite as possible until the real thief is 
found. You can look up my previous record, and 
I am sure you will do me the honor to acknowledge 
some great misfortune has befallen me in placing me 
in this unenviable light," said Thompkins, walking 
up to Mr. Standwick, and then he added, "My 
dear sir, you will be obliged to accept my story later, 
so you might take a different attitude towards me 
if I am obliged to remain here until you look me up. 
I shall ask you to treat me as a gentleman at least 
until I am proven a thief. 

"You sir, will be given every opportunity to clear 
yourself when the time comes. No man, I don't 
care if he is a prime minister, sir, can walk in my 
house, tie up my silver to carry it away, then escape 
without some punishment. My duty is to protect 
myself and the community at large from just such 
men as you, men who wear the mask of a gentleman 
but underneath are cowards, sir, and worse than the 
thief who is known as such. For bad as he is, he is 
braver than you, for he doesn't cheat people by pre- 
tending to be what he is not, as you evidently do," 
and Standwick began to walk aervously back and 
forth as the baseness of Thompkin's crime grew 
greater, the more he thought of it. 



82 Thompkins Blunder 

"Take care, sir, what you say," cried Thompkins 
angrily. "This thing has gone far enough, and I 
demand that you at least refrain from further insults 
until my friends can get to me. I expect you to 
allow me the privilege of sending for my friends 
and my lawyer as well. Then I must send a note 
to Mrs. Thompkins with some explanation for my 
absence. I have restrained myself so far because 
of my unfortunate position, but I want you to refrain 
from again calling me a thief until I am proven such. 
You should give me the benefit of the doubt at 
least. 

"My good sir," replied Standwick loftily, "do 
you appreciate the fact, that all the evidence in the 
world brought to bear upon your previous character, 
and business as well, will not excuse or explain your 
being here in my house ready to carry off my silver. 

"You must see, sir, that I am a gentleman," con- 
tinued Mr. Thompkins, "but placed in an exceed- 
ingly awkward position. By Jove, though, I don't 
see myself how I am going to convince you I was 
not after your silver or anything else. But, see here, 
my dear sir, why' can't you satisfy yourself as to 
who and what I am? You have lost nothing through 
this episode, for your silver is safe. I would lose a 
great deal, everything in fact, if this matter becomes 
public, for I would then stand before the world 



Thompkins Blunder 83 

branded as a thief. It would be worse crime to ruin 
the reputation of an innocent man and wreck his 
family, than it would be to let me go believing me a 
thief. Surely sir, you must appreciate the dreadful 
situation I find myself in," pleaded Thompkins, who 
now felt like a fly caught in the web of some fero- 
cious spider that had woven its strands so strong 
about him it was impossible to escape ; and it also 
began to dawn upon him that all the friends in the 
world, even Amelia, would not be able to prove that 
he had not entered the house of this man with intent 
to steal. He grew weak and faint as the horror of 
it all began to loom up before him, and he collapsed 
utterly and sank down in a chair, his knees giving 
away. 

Standwick cleared his throat several times before 
he spoke as the sight of the other man's despair 
touched his heart, and Stimson with a feeling of 
pity for the poor chap stole out and returned with 
a cup of coffee. 

"Come, come, sir, if all you say is true you must 
keep your nerve to bear it until we can find the man 
who did the job, but if you did come in here for 
the purpose of stealing, it will be better to confess 
and perhaps because of your previous record you 
may get off easy," said Standwick. 

"But my good man, think of my reputation. No 



84 Thompkins Blunder 

matter how light the sentence if any were given, the 
publicity of being accused of crime will almost ruin 
me for life," moaned Thompkins, "and what a shock 
to my wife, sir. You must understand, for you have 
a wife and children. Don't ruin my life and the 
future of my family because of this most unfortunate 
circumstance," and Thompkin's voice shook as he 
spoke. 

"It is of my wife and daughter I am thinking as 
well as of all innocent women," replied Standwick. 
"You are just the kind of man that is dangerous to 
the community. A wolf in sheep's clothing is far 
more dangerous than a raging lion, for we can give 
the lion a wide berth, but we never discover the wolf 
under the white wool until it is too late. Of course, 
sir, I will give you every opportunity to clear your- 
self before you are handed over to the authorities," 
continued Standwick seriously. 

"My good man, why can't you let me go? Send 
those men back and look up my record, or let me 
send a note to Mrs. Thompkins to relieve her mind. 
I will stay here willingly, sir, until you have satisfied 
yourself regarding the matter. Allow me to inform 
my wife that I am not injured or dead, then I will 
await your time with great patience. 

"Very well," assented Mr. Standwick, "Stimson 
will deliver the note and await a reply, for I assure 



Thompkins* Blunder 85 

you, sir, I am not so hard-hearted as to wish to cause 
unnecessary suffering to any woman. Just help 
yourself to note paper and pen, and Stimson will 
remain here while I telephone to the bank and satis- 
fy myself as to your statements." And Standwick 
left the room as Thompkins picked up his pen to 
write a note to Amelia, which must not alarm her 
or let her know where he was. Just how to word it 
puzzled him for a moment, but he finally dashed off 
a note to the effect that he was detained at the home 
of his friend Maxton, who had been seized with a 
fit the night before. Maxton was now growing 
calmer, he wrote, and so he hoped to be home very 
shortly, then signing himself, your affectionate hus- 
band, he addressed it and handed it to Stimson, who 
had stood silently by with a look of pity on his face 
for the poor wretch whose capture at first had filled 
him with joy. 

"It's a very sad case, sir," stammered Stimson as 
he took the note, and Thompkins sank back in his 
chair and buried his face in his hands. "Very sad 
case indeed, sir," repeated Stimson, his sympathy 
growing as he lost sight of the thief and saw only a 
gentleman in distress. "If I ever find the real thief 
it'll give me pleasure, sir, to ring his neck with me 
two 'ands, sir." 

"Here, my good man, give me your hand. It 



86 Thompkins* Blunder 

gives me courage to know you believe me innocent 
in spite of all appearances," said Thompkins rising 
and holding out his hand, which Stimson took re- 
spectfully. 

"At first, sir, I did take you for a thief which was 
natural seein' the silver packed up, and I *ope you 
have no grudge against me, sir, for callin' the p'lice. 
I felt it my duty to protect my master's family." 

"It was the only thing you could do, Stimson, 
under the circumstances. I have only myself to 
blame for being such a silly ass as to fall asleep. 
Well, it's too late now, but I must get out of the 
mess I'm in, somehow," and Thompkins paced up 
and down nervously waiting for Standwick to ap- 
pear. 

The door opened and Standwick entered briskly, 
fully clothed, showing he had not devoted the en- 
tire time to the telephone alone. "Stimson, bring 
Mr. Thompkins some tea and toast before you go," 
he said, with some deference in his voice, then he 
resumed his position before the fire. He waved 
Thompkins to be seated as Stimson returned and 
placed a tray containing tea, toast and jam with 
gleaming silver and snowy linen on the library table, 
and quietly left the room. 

Thompkins poured himself a cup of steaming tea 
and drank it eagerly with the hope it would put new 
courage and heart in him. 



Thompkins Blunder 87 

Standwick stood with legs spread apart, a coat- 
tail under each arm. After a moment's silence, 
broken only by the falling of the log in the grate, 
he cleared his throat and said: "My dear sir, I am 
placed in as awkward a position as you. Since 
looking up your business and social standing among 
the names you gave me I find it exceedingly difficult 
to see how you can be the thief I took you to be at 
first. This knowledge inclines me to let you off and 
let the matter rest between ourselves alone. We can 
trust to Stimson's silence for I see he has gone over 
to your side out of pity — wait a moment," exclaimed 
Standwick as Thompkins attempted to stammer a 
reply, "on the other hand, with the evidence of 
my own eyes as to the silver being tied up, it will 
always trouble my conscience not knowing when I 
and my family are peacefully sleeping that you may 
be prowling about some other man's house adding 
his silver to yours. I am placed between two fires, 
one my duty to my fellow citizens, and the other 
my desire not to ruin or injure an innocent man 

"Then, for God's sake, don't do it," interrupted 
Thompkins eagerly. 

"But, my good sir, you must see I don't know 
whether you are guilty or innocent. If I let you go 
quietly I might be injuring my fellow men by leaving 
you free among them and fail in my duty to law and 



88 Thompkins Blunder 

justice. On the other hand, if I hand you over to 
the police I might be ruining an innocent man, so 
my position is almost as unpleasant as yours," and 
Standwick rubbed his hands nervously, trying to 
decide how to get out of the dilemma in which he 
found himself. 

Thompkins, who had sat quietly staring at the 
fire, knowing there was nothing more to be said in 
explanation of his questionable presence there, very 
dolefully added: "I fully appreciate the responsi- 
bility of your position in this matter, my dear sir, but 
feel that if it is only a question of your duty 
to your fellow men, or your duty to me, the lesser 
evil would be to let me go, even believing me to be 
a thief. If I am, it is likely some other member of 
your community will catch me soon, especially if I 
continue the habit of falling asleep while at work. 
Then you can come forward with your statement 
and show it was not my first offence and this evi- 
dence would make the sentence greater and perhaps 
put me up forever. On the other hand, you have 
not lost even a salt spoon. So, my good sir, aside 
from the fact you might arrest an innocent man and 
ruin my reputation as well, don't you see it will be 
of far greater benefit to your fellow citizens to keep 
quiet as to this affair in order that you may come 
forward later with your evidence and add to the 



Thompkins* Blunder 89 

sentence, in case I am found in a like situation. You 
understand, of course, that simply for the sake of 
argument I am supposing myself to be a thief, which 
you seem to half-believe. 

"Hm-ah, Mr. Thompkins, sir, you have placed 
this matter in an entirely, different light to me. I see 
now I can let you return to your home with no feel- 
ing of regret that I did not turn you over to the 
police. I see, as you say, my evidence in such an 
event will have greater weight. This relieves my 
conscience as to my duty to the world at large and 
also to you," and Standwick cleared his throat and 
looked important. 

"Then, sir, I take it we can call this incident 
closed," said Thompkins, rising as Stimson opened 
the door. "All I ask is that I have your word as 
a gentleman that this doesn't reach the ears of any- 
one unless you are called upon later to prove some- 
thing against my character. 

"You have, sir," replied Standwick, who bowed 
gracefully, as Thompkins returning it curtly, walked 
out of the door held open by Stimson. 

"What reply did my wife send?" asked Thomp- 
kins as Stimson helped him on with his coat. 

"She was busy with the 'airdresser and sent no 
reply, sir. 

"Very well. Call a cab," and Thompkins thrust 



90 

a half-crown in Stimson's hand, who whistled for a 
cab, then said, as he held the door open, "You can 
depend upon me sir, never to give you away." 

The cab door closed with a bang as Thompkins 
leaned back, feeling that he had by his wits escaped 
a worse fate than that which the philanthropic 
Standwick thought was still hanging over him, and 
who, pledged to secrecy regarding the affair, was 
only waiting to proclaim him a thief if he were ever 
caught again. 



WHAT BECAME OF THE GHOST OF 
MIKE O'FLYNN 



"Then a spirit passed before my face; the hair of my 
flesh stood up." — Job IV: 15. 



What Became of the Ghost of 
Mike O'Flynn 

Sounds of sobbing came from behind the tightly 
closed blinds of a handsome red brick house standing 
in the midst of well-kept grounds on the avenue. This 
sound, together with the muffled door-bell hidden be- 
neath long streamers of purple and black, proclaimed 
it to be a house of mourning, and to those who knew 
him, that Mike O'Flynn as a man had ceased to be. 

As his name indicated, Mike had made his entry 
into this world by the way of Ireland, and had 
played as a child on its emerald green sod. While 
still an awkward young spalpeen with a brogue so 
thick it did not need the assistance of his name to 
disclose his nationality, he had immigrated to this 
country to woo that fickle dame, Fortune, whom he 
had been told spent most of her time on our shores 
showering gold dollars upon her favorites. 

By his ready wit and unfailing good humor he 
won many friends. These soon pointed out to him 
an easier ladder to success than the one he was climb- 
ing with his hod, which he therefore quickly dropped 
and started on the highway of political life, and in 
time became the "Boss" of his district. As he rose 
in public favor, so rose his bank account, and the 



94 What Became of the Ghost 

imposing red brick house, wherein his body now lay 
waiting to be buried with all honors due him, was 
his own. 

As daylight faded into night, from behind the 
drawn curtains of the dining-room came sounds of 
voices mingled with clinking glass as toasts were 
drunk to his memory by especially invited friends. 
And through the long night the words of praise grew 
more eloquent with the emptying of the glasses. 

No one in the room saw or in any way perceived 
the ghost of Mike O'Flynn that had silently entered 
and was now present at his own wake. Nor could 
they see how his ghostly bosom swelled with pride 
and his ghostly face beamed with joy, as he listened 
to what a fine fellow he had been, according to the 
words of praise which fell from the lips of his friends 
and weeping family. 

When the first streaks of dawn came stealing into 
the room making the candle-light pale and dim, the 
ghost of Mike glided softly past the bier on which 
his body lay in state between lighted candles which 
flickered wildly as he passed out to make his way 
back to that country from which no traveler is sup- 
posed to return. 

If Mike's ghostly bosom swelled with pride at the 
evidence of affection witnessed on the night of the 
wake, it must have come near bursting at the signs 



of Mike O'Flynn 95 

of respect and esteem shown by the magnificence of 
the burial. The floral offerings alone were befitting 
a great and honored personage. 

As the music rolled forth from the organ and the 
choir boys took up the chanting refrain of the High 
Mass which his family had desired said for the re- 
pose of his soul, the ghost of Mike O'Flynn glided 
silently into the church and took up his position on 
the altar near the priests, feeling this to be the proper 
place for him, as for the next hour or two, though 
unseen, he would be the most important person there. 

The priests in costly garments went through their 
part of the solemn mass, and the choir boys and con- 
gregation repeated the part allotted to them. And 
while the incense was wafted to the vaulted roof 
together with the notes of the organ and voices raised 
in chant, the ghost of Mike gazed down from the 
altar at his body, lying there between rows of 
lighted tapers, looking so stately and dignified, he 
scarcely recognized it as his own former self. 

Mike's ghost longed with all his heart to make 
himself heard for he wanted to tell his family and 
friends how greatly he appreciated this evidence of 
their esteem. He wished it had been possible for 
him to have gone through all this while alive so he 
could have thanked them in words for this beautiful 
tribute to his memory. 



96 What Became of the Ghost 

"Begorra, now," said Mike's ghost to himself, 
between the chanting of the priests and altar boys, 
"why can't there be full-dress rehearsals for funerals 
the same as weddin's? Thin a mon kin see how 
things will look whin he's dead while he's alive and 
kin talk and ixpress his thanks. My, but ain't it a 
grand sind-off they do be givin' me?" he continued, 
gazing proudly around at the lights and floral 
tributes. 

"To think of all thim foine words bein' meant for 
me and the grand music a-rollin' out. Sure it does 
the heart of a mon good to attind his own funeral. 
But 'tis a great surprise to me intirely to think I kin 
be here myself and look on," and Mike's face broad- 
ened into a smile even as he bowed his head in prayer 
at the proper moment with the rest. 

"My, but don't Mary and the girruls look illigent 
in black," he continued as he raised his head. "Mary 
looks a rale quane, for sure, and a fit mate fer the 
grand lookin' old gintlemon lyin' there in state, which 
to be sure is meself, but as no wan kin hear me it 
won't do any harm to speak well of meself. And 
it's the only chanst I've iver had to see what a foine 
lookin' mon I was. Sure, 'tis too bad a mon has to 
be dead before he kin see himself as he really is," 
and here Mike's ghost sighed deeply at the apparent 
injustice of this being so. 



of Mike O'Ffynn 97 

He was brought quickly back to the realization of 
things as they were, by the loud sobbing of Mary 
and the children as they went up to take a last look 
at the remains of Mike O'Flynn, the husband and 
father, while the others in the church, who followed 
them to the casket saw in the quiet face of the one 
lying there very little to remind them of the jovial 
friend and good-natured politician. 

Then the ghost of Mike, feeling it proper to be 
where he could hear all the remarks of those who 
looked at the body which had once been himself, 
took up his position at the head of the casket. 

He held out his arms to Mary and, putting them 
around her, whispered, soothingly, "I'm here, 
Mary darlint, just the same and I'll niver lave ye 
alone while ye'r alive. Oh, can't ye see me, a stand- 
in' beside ye wid me two arms around ye, Mary?" 
he asked wistfully. And then, "Oh, dear, I do be 
fergittin' intirely I'm only a ghost that no wan kin 
see. 'Tis wan of the unpleasant things wan has to 
put up with at wan's own funeral and 'tis lucky I 
be to be heare at all, at all," he continued, shaking 
his head sadly as he gazed with tears in his eyes after 
Mary, who, failing to hear or perceive his presence, 
was led to the carriage sobbing loudly. 

He remained at the head of the casket as his 
friends filed past ; at first he spoke to each, greeting 



98 What Became of the Ghost 

them cordially with outstretched hand, but as each 
one addressed, failed to hear or to notice him in any 
way, he drew back silent and sorrowful. 

As the last one filed past, the pall-bearers lifted 
the casket and bore it down the aisle and placed it in 
the hearse. The ghost of Mike, which had followed 
closely behind, stood puzzled as to where he should 
ride. It looked too hot and stuffy inside the hearse, 
with its hangings, to ride there, and it hardly seemed 
proper to ride outside with the driver, yet he felt he 
must attach himself somewhere near the hearse in 
order to be at the head of the imposing line of 
carriages and stream of people following. 

He had about decided to walk, either before or 
behind the hearse, when his eye caught sight of the 
open carriage containing the floral tributes from his 
friends. This appealed to him as being by far the 
most appropriate place for him, so climbing up into 
the carriage, he squeezed in between a tall shaft and 
a huge wreath and took up his position behind a 
large piece representing the gates-ajar. He placed 
a hand on either post for support, just as the car- 
riages started off in a long line, Mike's ghost at the 
head with a smile of pure joy on its face and his 
ghostly garments flying in the breeze. 

As the carriages passed slowly through the streets 
on the way to the cemetery, the ghost of Mike looked 



of Mike OTlynn 99 

down from its lofty position and smiled serenely at 
the crowds which lined the sidewalks and stood with 
uncovered heads as the funeral passed. Glancing 
back at the heavily draped hearse, with its beautiful 
horses of black which pranced with arched necks 
under their pall-like coverings as though proud to 
draw the body of so great a man as he, Mike felt a 
sense of conscious pride that the body of the dig- 
nified looking gentleman within was indeed his own. 

As he viewed, on all sides, the signs of respect 
shown to his memory, Mike's ghost seemed to take 
a childish delight at being able to ride thus at the 
head of his own funeral; not shut up within the 
casket, but alive and up in the air, where he could 
see all that was going on. 

After glancing back again and feeling satisfied 
that the procession was moving smoothly and in 
proper order he turned to inspect the many floral 
offerings by which he was surrounded. "What a 
foine mon they must think I be, bedad, to erect all 
these beautiful monuments to me memory. To be 
sure, they are made of flowers that will perish in a 
day, but the memory of all thim kind friends who 
sint these illigent shafts and things, will remain wid 
me long after the perfume of the flowers has gone 
intirely," said Mike's ghost, growing eloquent as he 
became aware of the affectionate esteem in which 



100 What Became of the Ghost 

Mike had been held in their hearts as expressed by 
the cards attached to the floral tributes. 
"Gone, but not forgotten. 
From your loving wife, Mary.'* 
he read on the card suspended from the neck of the 
dove which perched on one of the gates. "Ah, 
Mary knows I niver stayed away from home wan 
night whin alive and in me body, so it must be lone- 
some fer her to have me away these three days. Poor 
girrul, I must come often to cheer her up, if I can. 
But I only got a permit to come and attind me fu- 
neral by givin' me solemn word that upon me return I 
would stay inside thim gates long enough to learn 
how to use me wings to come and go widout bother- 
ing St. Peter, bless his holy name," and Mike's 
ghost crossed himself devoutedly. "I'm afraid, as 
wings is hard things to manage whin you ain't used 
to thim, that Mary will be mighty lonesome before 
I git the hang of 'em." He sighed deeply as he 
stroked the head of the dove lovingly. "Ah, sure, 
'tis thoughtful of Mary to put on this dove for she 
knew how I loved the canary." 

"Well, begorra now, but it does pay a mon to 
belong to all the societies he kin afford, and if he 
can't afford 'em it's a good plan to skimp on some- 
thin' else but not on societies, for sure, 'tis a grand 
sind-off they do be givin' a mon whin he comes to 



of Mike O'Flynn 1 0f 

die. Bedad, no wan but a rale king could have a 
more illigant funeral than I, Mike O'Flynn, is havin' 
this day of our Lord, July 1 st, 1 886." And Mike's 
ghost turned back and gazed with pride at the long 
line moving slowly up the hillside and thereby nearly 
lost his balance as the carriage turned sharply to 
enter the cemetery gate. 

As the carriages drove up and deposited their oc- 
cupants beside the grave, Mike's ghost, which still 
stood holding fast to the gates-ajar, had a fine view 
of the ceremonies from the floral-laden carriage. 

The first sight of the open grave made him gasp 
with terror, but this quickly changed to joy as he 
realized that he did not have to go into the grave with 
the body which now reposed upon the ground, in 
the fine mahogany casket. 

As the words of the burial service fell from the 
lips of the priest, Mike's ghost for the first time began 
to feel solemn, and the tears rolled down his cheeks 
as the casket was lowered reverently into the grave. 

"Ach, sure, 'tis sorry I feel fer me poor old body 
what has carried me around so faithfully these many 
years, to see it buried in the ground the same as a 
pertater or cabbage," and he groaned sadly as the 
first spadeful of earth fell on the casket causing 
Mary and the children to sob bitterly, and many 
in the crowd to shudder as they realized that they 



102 What Became of the Ghost 

too, would some day have the same ceremony per- 
formed over them. 

His feeling of sorrow for his poor old body made 
the ghost of Mike deaf to the sound of weeping from 
his mourning family, so he did not get down from his 
seat to go and comfort them, but remained where he 
was, lost in thought. He was lifted down with the 
gates-ajar and placed at the head of the grave, where 
he adjusted himself comfortably with his back 
against a tree, his legs crossed and again quickly 
lapsed into memories of the past. So deep in the 
reverie was the ghost of Mike that he failed to no- 
tice the departure of the funeral entourage. Finally, 
arousing himself, he realized, with a shudder, that 
he was alone with the dead and he shivered as he 
gazed about at the monuments and graves. 

"Well, begorra now, but I'm thankful 'tis the sun 
settin' and not the moon risin' I see before me, for 
the red light is more cheerful-like whin ye are here 
alone. And bedad, a cimetary is no more cheerful 
fer a ghost to be in thin it was before ye became wan. 
Well, Mike," he said, evidently addressing the body 
of himself, "I've been thinkin' while watchin' thim 
puttin' ye in the ground, what a fool I was that I 
niver provided a fine sepulcher fer ye whin the time 
come fer me to lave ye behind. What good will all 
the money I've spint on societies do now? They 



of Mike O'Fhnn 103 

only furnished me wid a parade and these emblems 
of respect which are really only certificates that I've 
paid up me dues promptly, otherwise I wouldn't 
have had 'em," he said with scorn, as he kicked over 
a wreath, leaning against the post, which had been 
sent by the Lodge X. Y. Z. 

"I was thinkin' more about the foine show all thim 
societies would make whin I was dead, a turnin' out 
wid all their badges, and I was not thinkin* of me 
poor old body at all, at all, that would be put in the 
ground like that, till now. It's too late now, Mike 
O'Flynn, to be cryin' over spilt milk, but 'tis a great 
shame not to have built ye a little stone house to 
keep ye in, like they have fer the kings and quanes 
in the old counthry. And sure, if I'd a known 
what a grand lookin' gentlemon you be, Mike, I'd 
a buried you like a king. Auch, 'tis too bad we 
have no chance to see ourselves at all, at all, until 
we're not ourselves any more. For how kin I iver 
be the same Mike O'Flynn I was, whin part of me 
is there and part of me is here, until I fergit which 
is meself intirely," said the ghost with a sigh. "Oh, 
what a worrld it is to be sure, whin it's as hard to be 
dead as it is to be alive." 

The sun sank behind the hills in the distance, 
throwing out rays of glowing light which caused the 
monuments to stand out from their background of 



104 What Became of the Ghost 

green with startling distinctness. And as the shad- 
ows grew deeper in the fading light, Mike's ghost 
looked about him in alarm and drew his ghostly 
robes around him closer as he climbed down from 
his seat and stood by the grave with a solemn face. 
'Tis a shame, Mike O'Flynn, to be lavin* ye 
alone like this, and puttin' ye where no wan kin see 
your smilin' face. Ye should have been presarved, 
like thim ancients do their bodies so their children 
could see what their father's and fore-father's looked 
like. 'Tis too bad, to be sure, I wasn't wan of thim 
ancients when I was born, thin I'd a had that 
knowledge which, fer some reason, the Irishmon 
niver gets till he's dead, and thin it's too late to use 
it. Auch, sure, Mike, but it grieves me to think I 
niver thought of the house I could have built fer ye, 
till now whin it's too late, too late," and the ghost 
of Mike wrung his hands with remorse. 

"Oh, what a cruel fate it is, to be sure," he 
moaned, "that overtakes a mon whin he's dead, to 
be havin' more foine thoughts in his brains whin they 
be outside of his head, then he iver had whin they 
was in. And what good do they do me now, in- 
tirely, whin I can't use 'em? Auch, sure, but 'tis 
worse thin not to have none at all, at all, fer thin a 
mon is more contint whin his head is as empty as 
the body he left, for widout a head to put thim in, 



of Mike OTbnn 105 

sure what good is brains at all, at all?'* and the 
ghost of Mike sank down upon the flower-laden 
grave of the body, he found so hard to leave and 
which still seemed bound to him by invisible ties, 
woven together by years of association which the 
strange experience called death had failed to sever. 

As twilight faded into night, the full moon arose, 
flooding the cemetery with its silvery light, causing 
the shadows, cast by the stones which marked the 
homes of the inhabitants of the silent city, to form in 
fantastic shapes. And the hoot of an owl in the 
distance made Mike's ghost bury himself down 
among the flowers on the grave and to draw his 
robes closer about him for protection. 

"Auch, sure, auch sure, what a miserable mon I 
be, Mike. It's scared to death I am to be here and 
yet I can't get the heart to go away and lave ye 
alone the first night, for sure, all the ould ties do be 
seemin' to hold me to ye. Oh, why can't we take 
our bodies wid us whin we die the same as we do our 
brains?" wailed the ghost of Mike, "for seems to 
me we need the one as much as the other and 'tis 
harrd to be in two parts and not know what ye are 
at all, at all. Well, as there don't seem to be anny 
wan else here to-night a kaping watch over them- 
selves," he murmured after gazing about anxiously, 
hoping for the sight of even a ghost like himself to 



106 What Became of the Ghost 

keep him company. "I guess after a while ye git 
used to bein' two people instid of wan and stay away 
from here. 

"While I am here, I guess I might as well take a 
nap, fer the excitement of attindin' me own funeral 
has tired me out. It's nice and quiet if it is a bit 
lonesome, and the man in the moon is like a watch- 
man with his lanthem on guard, and that's some 
company to be sure," he soliloquized as he spread his 
robes carefully about him covering the grave com- 
pletely, then resting his head on a floral pillow of 
white roses and lilies he settled down to spend the 
night with the other part of himself. 

"Ye kin rest in peace this night, Mike, ould mon," 
he murmured softly, "fer I'm goin' to stay wid ye 
fer company and also because I don't know yet how 
to git along widout ye after all these years together. 
But it has been a grand day fer us both Mike, and 
sure, it was a great sind-off we had wid that foine 
parade. So sleep pacefully and wid a proud feelin* 
that ye are the body of such a foine mon, wan so 
respected by his fellow citizens that if we had stayed 
togither longer he might have been Mayor of the 
town. Oh, me, oh, my! Why do all thim foine 
thoughts come to me now when it's too late? Sure, 
'tis worse thin not to have anny thoughts at all, at 
all," and he tossed restlessly about on his flowery 



of Mike O'Flynn 107 

bed at the thought of what a great man he might 
have been. 

"My, but I feel very faint and quare," he ex- 
claimed, as he tried to shake off a drowsy feeling 
that crept over him. "Maybe 'tis the scint of thim 
tuberoses and lilies that has gone to me head and 
made me light-headed and giddy. I'll just hold on 
tight to this shaft here, maybe it will give me a more 
stiddy feelin,' for I'm afraid I'll float away some- 
wheres if I don't hang onto somethin'." 

So clasping his arm about the tall shaft which 
stood at the right of the grave, while a peaceful 
smile o'erspread his face, the ghost of Mike fell fast 
asleep and quiet reigned in the City of the Dead. 
The moon with his lantern kept guard and the fra- 
grance of the floral tributes to his memory rose as 
incense and mingled with the dew of night. 

About noon the following day as the sexton of 
the cemetery hurried along to superintend the making 
of a new grave, he stopped to admire the floral 
tributes on the grave of Mike O'Flynn. Stooping 
down to replace a shaft which had been overturned, 
he was surprised at the sight of a dew bespangled 
cob-web which covered the entire grave and which 
the rays of the noon-day sun had failed to efface. 

There it lay, looking not unlike a veil of costly 
lace which some Fairy Princess had dropped in 



108 

passing, or had spread carefully over the grave in 
order to protect the flowers from the heat of the sun. 

The sexton examined it closely, then walked 
away hurriedly, muttering to himself that in all his 
thirty years' experience he had never before seen a 
cob-web of that size and thickness upon a grave. 

It made cold chills run down his spine, for, as he 
said, "It looked like a garment some ghost might 
have left behind in its hurry to get back to its hiding 
place before daylight overtook it." 

We, who know that the ghost of Mike OTlynn 
spent the night at the grave of his body, wonder 
whether the ties of that body, during his sleep, drew 
his spirit down into the grave, to rest there 
until the body was no more, or whether those ties 
were suddenly severed as he slept, allowing the ghost 
to soar away to parts unknown, leaving his ghostly 
robes behind. 

Thus we can speculate, but who knows what 
really became of the ghost of Mike OTlynn, 



THE MAN WHO ALWAYS TURNED UP 



August \3th, 1912. 
My dear Madame: 

My private opinion is, that the more ghost stories 
we have the better it will he for the book and our 
readers. I was always fond of thinking them out. 
But I never thought of any so original as these. 

I suppose people on the earth-plane will speak of 
me as the ghost of Frank R. Stockton, when I AM 
Frank R> Stockton himself. I would consider my 
discarded body as being the ghost of my former self, 
for the real I, the mind and personality, still exist. 

Well anyhow, call me a ghost or what you will, 
1 am dictating ghost stories to you from here, which 
in itself, would make a story worthy of Poe. 

The story of Johnny and the Sailor Man, is a 
good one, which when finished will be recognized 
as mine, so if you will please read it aloud, I will 
work on the revision, then we will take up a new one. 

Frank R. Stockton. 

NOTE. 

As there were already two ghost stories among 
the six to be published, I asked Mr. Stockton to give 
me something else in place of "The Man Who Al- 
ways Turned Up," saying that one could be pub- 
lished later. The above is his reply. 

Etta de Camp. 



"It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: 
an image was before mine eyes, there was silence, and I 
heard a voice, saying, . . ." — Job IV: 16. 



The Man Who Always Turned Up 

The first glow of red mingled with the dull 
grey of early dawn as the fishing fleet prepared to 
sail on its regular trip. The entire population of 
the little hamlet had turned out in spite of the early 
hour, to wave farewell to the men of the sea. 

Fathers and mothers clasped strong sons to their 
breasts, with a murmured "God keep you," spoken 
with trembling lips and moist eyes. Wives with 
babes in their arms and little ones clinging to their 
skirts were gathered into the loving arms of husband 
and father, who dry-eyed and brave-hearted kissed 
them farewell. Sweethearts there were, who sobbed 
openly and clung tenderly with fear reflected from 
the eyes of the young women, for many dangers may 
be encountered during three weeks at sea on that 
rugged north-east coast of Maine. There the 
gales blow with sudden fury and often as if from a 
blue sky, sending ships down regardless of the souls 
of the men on board, or of the hearts of the women 
at home. The storms come and wreck the ships as 
do petulent children their toys when tired of them. 

Knowing well the treachery of the wind in this 



114 The Man Who Always Turned Up 

region, those gathered on the shore to say good-by 
did so with heavy hearts, made heavier still by the 
cheerful farewells shouted back in reply by the men 
who, undaunted by the danger before them, went 
fearlessly out to sea. 

Back of the crowd and higher up on the beach 
stood little Johnny Parker waving his hand to his 
father who commanded the fleet. 

As he watched the boats sail away he became 
lost in thought, dreaming perhaps of the day when 
he too could go to sea and be welcomed on his re- 
turn as a hero. 

He was aroused from his day-dream by the sight 
of a tall man who appeared before him, as though 
he had dropped from the skies. Johnny looked at 
him in amazement as he saw, by his clothes, that he 
was a sea-faring man, though not of those parts, for- 
the blue blouse and wide-bottomed trousers were 
those worn by sailors of big ships at sea and not by 
fisher-folks. Johnny quickly scanned the sea in all 
directions puzzled, for there was no strange ship in 
sight and the nearest port was miles away. 

The tall sailor said not a word in greeting, but 
stood there with a look of anxiety on his face, point- 
ing with right arm outstretched to the boats now far 
out at sea. 

"You're late fer them boats, Mister," said Johnny 



The Man Who Always Turned Up 115 

politely, looking at the stranger with friendly eyes. 
"They won't be back agin fer three weeks. Why 
didn't yer git here sooner?" 

At this, the sailor silently turned and looked at 
him, then back again at the fleet, with right arm 
still outstretched stiffly. 

"Gee, that Sailor Man must be deef," said John- 
ny to himself. Then cupping his hands to his mouth 
so that his voice would carry stronger, he shouted 
loudly, "I said, Mister, yer're too late fer them 
boats. They won't come back fer nothin' nor no- 
body fer three weeks yet." 

The stranger turned again and looked at the 
boy sadly, and made no reply, but continued to 
hold his right arm out stiffly before him. 

"Wall now, that Sailor Man must be dumb as 
well as deef. I can't make out them signs of his'n," 
said Johnny to himself, disgusted with this strange 
man, and he looked about for someone to come to 
his relief and take the task of talking to this deaf 
and dumb man off his shoulders. 

The beach was deserted, as all had now scattered 
to their homes save a few of the old men, busy 
mending nets. Johnny finally spied Captain Briggs, 
with telescope glued to his eyes, seated high on a 
rock where he could catch the last sight of the fish- 
ing boats. 



116 The Man Who Always Turned Up 

"Ahoy, there, Capt'n, yer wanted. Come here!" 
he shouted. 

"Aye, aye, lad," replied the captain briskly, and 
putting his telescope under his arm he got down and 
hopped along towards Johnny as quickly as his 
wooden leg would permit. 

"Well, lad, what is it?" he asked as he reached 
Johnny's side. 

"Here's a Sailor Man who wants to go to sea, I 
guess," replied Johnny. 

"Where?" asked the captain, gazing about curi- 
ously. 

"Why right here, in front of yer eyes. 

"Why, God-bless-my-soul, Lad, what are ye 
sayin'?" asked the captain amazed. "A sailor — ? 
Why there ain't no one in sight as I kin see," and 
the captain blew a loud blast on his red handker- 
chief, then waved it about in the air as was his cus- 
tom when excited. 

"Well, what kind o* glasses hev yer got on to-day, 
Capt'n, if yer can't see to the end o' yer nose?" 
asked Johnny scornfully. 

"The same kind I always wear, Lad, but ye 
must hev forgot to wash the sleep out o' yer eyes 
this mornin'," he replied kindly, while polishing 
the spectacles which he had removed at Johnny's 
criticism, then adjusting them carefully he looked 
at the boy anxiously. 



The Man Who Always Turned Up 117 

"Why, Johnny, my lad, yer must be dreamin' fer 
there ain't a yard o' that blue cloth my old eyes 
couldn' see for a mile from here, and my old nose 
would sartainly scent the salt spray in them clothes 
o' his'n. A sailor, ye say? Well, God-bless-my- 
soul, where is he?" and the captain turned about 
in every direction with the telescope to his eyes, 
scanning the horizon of land and sea. 

"Right here, in front o' you," cried Johnny im- 
patiently, then taking the captain by the arm he 
turned him about and led him up to where the sailor 
still stood, silent and grim. "There now, can't ^e 
see 1m? 

"No, Lad, I can't see what ain't in sight," and 
the captain looked in blank amazement into the face 
of the child as he spoke. 

Convinced by his earnest manner that it was no 
joke, the captain now began to fear the child was 
ill. Taking his hand he felt the pulse, beating firm 
and strong. He then began to question his own 
eyesight. 

"Well, Lad, maybe my old eyes is wrong to-day, 
so tell me what does this Sailor Man want?" 

"That's what I don't know, sir, fer he don't talk 
and I can't make 'im hear and so he must be one 
o' them deef and dumb folks I've heerd ye tell o* 
bout. 



118 The Man Who Always Turned Up 

"Well, Lad, that sign language is beyond me, 
too, so I reckon we'll jest hev to let this here Sailor 
Man alone. Maybe when he can't make hisself 
understood, he'll go back to where he came from. 
Ye jest better run along home now, and don't ye 
bother 'bout 'im no more," said the captain, patting 
the hand he held kindly, for he was somewhat wor- 
ried about the boy's strange behavior. 

Johnny, now alarmed at the actions of the sailor 
who had not attempted to speak or to make himself 
understood during this conversation, but still re- 
mained silent, gazing sadly out to sea, at the cap- 
tain's words took to his heels and fled to his home. 

Again sweeping the horizon of sea and sky with 
his telescope the captain muttered to himself as he 
gazed after the ships now so far away they seemed 
tiny specks bobbing up and down on the waves, 
"Well, God-bless-my-soul, a sailor! I wonder what 
he means anyhow?" Then blowing another loud 
blast on the red handkerchief he turned and hopped 
off after Johnny. 

The captain opened the door of Johnny's house 
and entered without waiting for anyone to answer 
his knock, for the fisher-folks of this little hamlet 
were honest, kindly people, and had no need for 
locks or bolts. You simply opened the door after 
knocking and entered sans ceremonie, to see for 
yourself whether anyone was in or not. 



The Man Who Always Turned Up 119 

The captain's entrance was unnoticed by either 
Johnny or his mother. Mrs. Parker was listening 
closely to the tale the child was telling of the strange 
sailor out there on the beach, who could neither hear 
nor speak and whose crazy actions had frightened 
him. 

"And Capt'n Briggs has gone blind, Mother, fer 
he couldn't see 'im when he stood right at the end 
o' his nose," exclaimed Johnny earnestly just as the 
captain opened the door. 

"Well, ma'm, good day to ye," he called out 
cheerily, hopping over to where Mrs. Parker sat. 

Thank ye, Captain, I'm glad to see ye are able 
to move about so spry. Johnny here seems to think 
ye were struck blind not to see the strange sailor he's 
been tellin' me of," she replied, taking the out- 
stretched hand offered. 

"Well, ma'm, it must be fever, or else the sleep 
is still in the lad's eyes, fer my old eyes ain't been 
able to ketch a sight o' them sailor's blue clothes 
and I hev looked all up and down this here coast 
and far out to sea. The lad's dreamin,' fer no 
eyes kin see what ain't in sight, ma'm," and the 
captain blew his nose vigorously as he seated him- 
self in the rocking chair offered him by Mrs. Parker, 
then spread his handkerchief over his wooden leg 
to dry. 



120 The Man Who Always Turned Up 

"Are ye sure, Lad, it was a sailor ye saw?*' asked 
Mrs. Parker, drawing Johnny tenderly within the 
circle of her arm, "and where could a sailor like 'im 
come from? 

"That's what I wondered when I first saw 'im a 
standin' there," replied the child seriously, "but he 
couldn't talk, so I don't know. 

"But, Johnny, if ye saw 'im in plain sight, I don't 
see why the captain didn't too," and Mrs. Parker 
looked at the captain anxiously as she spoke. 

"Well, God-bless-my-soul, ma'm, that's jest 
what I'd like to know. I ain't struck blind as ye kin 
see, but if my old eyes can't see what Johnny's did, 
it must be he saw what was in his head. And if he 
ain't dreamin', then he must be sick and needs a 
physic. Come here, lad, and hold out yer tongue." 

Johnny obeyed reluctantly. After carefully ex- 
amining his tongue and throat, feeling his head and 
again counting his pulse and finding the same steady 
beat, the captain dropped the child's hand more 
puzzled than ever. He waited to blow another 
blast before speaking. 

"Well, ma'm," he said, waving the handkerchief 
in the air, as he got up and hopped about the room 
nervously. "He ain't feverish as far as the usual 
signs go, fer he ain't got none, but somethin' sartingly 
is wrong with that there machinery o' his'n, fer it 



The Man Who Always Turned Up 121 

ain't right fer anyone to see things what ain't there 
to be seen, no it ain't. 

"But there ain't nothin' ails me, capt'n, and 
I won't take none o' that old physic, so there!" 
cried Johnny, angrily. "It's you that needs new 
specs so ye kin see what's right in front of your 
nose. 

"Well, lad, he must hev gone back the way he 
come there, fer there ain't no one in sight on this here 
coast," replied the captain as he turned from the 
window where he stood with telescope to his eyes. 

"There, mother, look! There's that Sailor Man 
now," cried Johnny, excitedly, catching hold of his 
mother's arm. 

"Where?" asked the captain, startled as he 
turned from the window, dropping the telescope in 
his excitement. 

"There, by the door," replied the boy with wide 
open eyes. "Speak to 'im, capt'n, maybe ye kin 
make him hear ye now," and Johnny clung to his 
mother with fear. 

Mrs. Parker sat speechless and white, while the 
captain looked at the door in blank amazement and 
around the room for signs of the sailor. He re- 
moved his spectacles and wiping them carefully, 
readjusted them on his nose, then hopped over to 
Johnny and patted him tenderly on the back as he 



122 The Man Who Always Turned Up 

said: "Now, sonny, show me jest where that there 
Sailor Man is, so I kin put 'im out with sech a whack 
o* my wooden leg, he won't come back agin, but 
be mighty glad to stay where he come from. 

"He stands right by the door there, Capt'n, and 
I don't see what ails ye and mother, that ye can*t 
see 'im too," and Johnny glancing anxiously at the 
frightened face of his mother as he spoke. 

"Well, well, lad, it is queer we can't see 'im, but 
then our eyes ain't as young as yours be. You speak 
to 'im, Johnny lad, and don't ye be afeerd of 'im 
fer he can't hurt ye while I and my old wooden leg 
is here to protect ye, so now ye jest speak up loud 
and clear," and the captain patted the hand of tKe 
child reassuringly as he spoke. 

"What do ye want o' us, Mister Sailor Man? and 
what are you doin' here?" asked Johnny, bravely, 
while his mother broke into loud weeping, and the 
captain cleared his throat gruffly to hide the tears he 
was afraid would roll down his cheeks and frighten 
the boy. It was an uncanny moment and trying to 
one's nerves to witness a child apparently in good 
health addressing an imaginary person, or at least 
one seen only by the youth. 

"Well, lad, what does he say?" asked the cap- 
tain, wiping his spectacles now dimmed by the tears 
they had concealed. 



The Man Who Always Turned Up 123 

"I told ye, Capt'n, I couldn't make 'im hear me 
on the beach and I can't now, fer he don't say 
nothin' back. You ask 'im good and loud, Capt'n, 
maybe he'll hear you if ye shout," replied the child 
eagerly. 

"All right, lad, I will," and the captain in a loud 
gruff voice asked the sailor what it was he wanted 
around in these here parts and to speak out like a 
man. He watched Johnny's face carefully as he 
spoke. 

"I guess he's awful deef, Captain, fer he didn't 
seem to hear ye no better'n me. He jest stands there 
like he did on the beach, a-holdin' that arm of his'n 
out straight and lookin' mighty troubled about some- 
thin'. It must be awful, Capt'n, to be deef and not 
talk either. 

"Aye, aye, lad, so it must," replied the captain, 
kindly putting his hand on the boy's shoulder and 
drawing him close. Then seeing that Mrs. Parker 
had collapsed utterly for the moment, he decided to 
take matters into his own hands. 

"Come, lad, ye hev taken a bad cold somehow, 
and need a good hot sweat, to take it out o' ye. Jest 
let that Sailor Man find his way out the same as he 
came in and ye come here with me and hop into bed 
where ye'll keep good and warm while I make ye 
some hot lemonade with plenty o' sugar in it," said 



124 The Man Who Always Turned Up 

the captain, leading the child toward the bedroom. 
"Ye jest get them clothes off now and I'll take care 
of that Sailor Man, and send 'im flying back to 
where he came from pretty quick. 

"I tell ye, I ain't got no cold and nothin' ails me. 
My nose don't run and my throat ain't sore, and I 
don't want to go to bed," sobbed Johnny. 

"There, there, now, lad, don't cry. We all hev 
to do things we don't like in this here life, and goin' 
to bed in the day-time ain't so bad. We'll jest put 
plenty o' sugar in that there lemonade of your'n and 
make it nice and syruppy, hey lad? And what do 
ye say to a tale o' the sea while I set by ye frer com- 
pany?" asked the captain who had now gotten John- 
ny into the bedroom and had deftly pulled back the 
coverlet as he spoke, patting and smoothing the pil- 
lows with gentle hands. 

"Come now, lad! Heave ho! Off with them sails 
of your'n while I go make that lemonade fer ye," he 
cried cheerily. 

"Aye, aye, Captain," replied Johnny, who now 
began to enter into the spirit of things, as he dried 
the tears on his cheeks. 

As the captain passed through the outer room on 
his way to the kitchen he stopped to reassure Mrs. 
Parker who sat weeping silently with her apron over 
her head. 



The Man Who Always Turned Up 125 

"There, there, ma'm, don't feel so badly," he 
said as he brushed away a tear from his own eyes. 
"The lad ain't goin' to die. His brain is only a bit 
excited by a cold or upset stomach. Jest keep 'im , 
in bed, quiet and warm, till I git old Doctor Squills ' 
here to find out the matter. If ye'll jest put the 
kittle on now, ma'm, I'll make 'im a good hot 
drink before I go," and Captain Briggs hopped 
softly out to the kitchen as Mrs. Parker dried her 
eyes and followed him to make the lemonade. 

He returned shortly to the bedroom with pitcher 
and cup on a tray and found his patient in bed. 
Johnny hailed the captain cheerfully and while 
taking the steaming drink, asked anxiously, "Say, 
Capt'n, where do you think that Sailor Man went 
to, when ye put him out as ye said ye did? 

"God-bless-my-soul, lad? I sartainly don't 
know. Now don't ye bother your little head no 
more 'bout 'im, ye jest lay here nice and quiet till 
I git back," replied the captain, gently smoothing the 
covers which the restless child had kicked off. Then 
tucking his telescope under his arm and clapping his 
cap on his head, he hopped briskly out of the door 
and on down the street and gazed anxiously out, into 
the sky and sea, still puzzled as to the apparition 
of the sailor, for like all mariners, he knew there were 
stranger things than that which Johnny had seen. 



126 The Man Who Always Turned Up 

When the doctor arrived late in the afternoon, he 
listened gravely to the story of Johnny's strange de- 
lusion. He thumped and pounded him vigorously 
trying to find the cause, but try as he would he could 
find nothing wrong with the strong, sturdy child. 
This fact he kept carefully to himself, for patients 
were few in the little hamlet and fees small. So in 
spite of Johnny's protests that he wasn't sick the 
doctor ordered that he be kept quiet in bed for the 
next few days to see what would develop, and 
departed, leaving medicine strong enough to develop 
almost anything in twenty-four hours, and a promise 
to look in again the next day. 

Johnny tossed restlessly about in bed, refusing 
to keep quiet or to be covered up, and complained 
loudly against his being kept a prisoner there. "I 
ain't sick, I tell ye," he shouted, his cheeks flushed 
with anger, "and it ain't fair to treat me as if I was, 
jest because some folks can't see what's plain be- 
fore 'em, so there," and he kicked the covers off in 
disgust, while making an effort to get up. 

"There, there, lad," said the captain who had 
returned; "maybe ye don't feel sick to-day but ye 
will to-morrow sure, if ye don't lay quiet and take 
your medicine like a man. Ye jest keep quiet now, 
and I'll tell ye the tale o' the wrecking o' the Sally 
Ann on this here coast when ye was a baby." 



The Man Who Always Turned Up 127 

Captain Briggs seated himself comfortably in the 
big armchair beside the bed and stretched his wooden 
leg out before him, resting it on another chair, and 
began the tale of the sea. 

The tale of the Sally Ann being particularly 
thrilling, many blows were given the Captain's big 
red nose. And as it was necessary to hang his hand- 
kerchief up to dry after each blast, it hung there 
over his wooden leg during the entire recital like a 
limp red flag of distress. 

The story of the going down of the brig and the 
rescue of the men was so exciting that, by the time 
the last man was carried safely through the surf, 
Johnny's eyes were flashing brightly and his cheeks 
were colored scarlet. 

Mrs. Parker, who entered at this moment with 
some porridge for his supper, seeing his flushed 
cheeks, greatly feared he had been stricken with 
fever. 

"God-bless-my-soul, ma'm," cried the captain in 
reply to her anxious questions, as he removed his leg 
from the chair after first rescuing the flag of distress 
and blowing another blast thereon. "I'm afeared 
I'm a bad hand, ma'm, to hev around the sick, fer 
when I git started a rescuin' folks at sea, I come 
nigh wreckin' those on land, like Johnny here. There 
now, my hearty, your head don't hurt ye or nothin* 



128 The Man Who Always Turned Up 

is worse, is it, since we pulled them sailors in from 
the sea?" he asked with some anxiety. "There now, 
lad," he continued, "ye eat yer supper, then fall 
asleep and by to-morrow when the sun comes up, ye 
will feel better. I'll go now, ma'm, if there's nothin* 
else I kin do fer ye," he said to Mrs. Parker, who 
was tenderly feeding Johnny his porridge. "I must 
git out on to the beach there and see what all this 
wind means." 

And sniffling his nose as though scenting danger 
he clapped his cap to his head and with a cheery 
good-night, hopped out of the house, into the dark- 
ness of the night. 

He was almost taken off of his feet by the first 
blast as the door closed behind him with a bang, 
and the wind shrieked and howled about him and 
sent its warning to those whose loved ones were at 
sea. 

"God-bless-my-soul," he cried as he ducked his 
head to meet the wind and turned in the direction of 
the Life Saving Station, "I don't like the looks o* 
this. I must hurry and see if them boys has every- 
thing ship-shape fer an emergency, and God pity 
our men at sea this night, fer they must by now be 
jest 'bout where it will do the greatest damage," said 
he shouting to himself in order to hear his own voice 
above that of the wind and the roar of the sea as it 



The Man Who Always Turned Up 129 

dashed upon the beach like some angry monster 
seeking to reek vengeance on all that stood in its 
path. 

"I wonder where in tarnation this here storm 
come from, fer all signs this mornin' sartinly pointed 
to fair weather, accordin' to my reckonin.' Well, 
God-bless-my-soul ; maybe I'm to blame. They do 
say that the evil spirits that go with storms, wreckin* 
ships at sea, are called back by the tellin' o' it even 
on a clear day," he continued aloud. 

And feeling in his heart somehow responsible, he 
sighed deeply as he pushed on through the storm 
and wind, resolving never again to let the recital 
of the Sally Ann pass his lips. 

Arriving at the Life Saving Station he found 
everything in order and the men down on the beach 
ready for action if necessary. 

The wind increased in violence with the rising 
tide, sending the breakers towering in, like huge 
whitecapped mountains, that broke with a crash and 
roar like thunder. 

As the storm grew with the night, little groups of 
hardy men and boys gathered on the beach in spite 
of the drenching rain, and with strained faces and 
anxious eyes, they stood peering into the darkness, 
watching for signals of distress from those out at sea ; 
while mothers, wives and sweethearts, spent the night 



130 The Man Who Always Turned Up 

on their knees, praying for the safety of their loved 
ones. 

It was early dawn before the God to whom they 
prayed seemed to have heard their prayers and 
stretched forth His hand to hold back the elements 
that threatened to destroy. 

As soon as the fury of the storm had passed, the 
whole population of the little hamlet came down to 
the beach. With wan and anxious faces they 
watched the lifesaving boats as they tried to get 
through the breakers and on out to where the fishing 
fleet must have met the storm, in order to learn the 
fate of these toilers-of-the-sea. 

The lifeboats were driven back again and again 
by the onslaught of the breakers, which rose before 
them like a huge wall, then broke upon the beach 
with force enough to dash their sturdy boats to 
pieces. 

The struggle continued until nearly noon before 
they were able to break through the towering billows 
and go to the rescue of their comrades. 

A faint cheer followed from the crowd on the 
beach, which watched the boats until lost to sight. 

At sunset, the same day, the fishing fleet came 
straggling in assisted by the Life Savers. There 
were two boats less than had sailed away the day 
before. 



The Man Who Always Turned Up 131 

These had gone down with all on board during 
the storm which had caught them just as they were 
rounding the headland. A point most dreaded by 
all mariners along that coast, for there the wind 
seemed to come from all directions at once whipping 
the sea into a veritable whirlpool among the rocks. 

The storm had come upon them with such sud- 
denness and raged with the fury of a hurricane, so 
that even to these hardened fishermen, it seemed a 
miracle that any of them were saved. 

After the boats had anchored and the injured had 
been carried to their homes, a group of fishermen 
gathered at the Life Saving Station to talk about the 
storm, which seemed to have come from a clear sky, 
and had contradicted all the fair-weather signs 
noted by them before they set sail. 

"That wa'n't no usual storm," said an old tar, 
seated on an inverted cask, his tanned face serious 
as he spoke. "That there storm is one o' them they 
say the Devil rides in, and is called up out o' re- 
venge by the spirits o' them thet hev gone down to 
their deaths in the sea. That wa'n't no usual storm, 
ye kin bet on't," he repeated solemnly. 

"Well, God-bless-my-soul!" cried Captain Briggs 
excitedly, jumping up from his seat and hopping 
around the room. "God-bless-my-soul," he re- 
peated to himself, blowing a loud blast on his red 



132 The Man Who Always Turned Up 

handkerchief, "then maybe that's what that there 
Sailor Man come fer, the one I couldn't see. My 
old eyes ain't trained to see ghosts, but it seems 
Johnny's is. Wall, now, I do declare, he must hev 
been sent to warn them boats. Wall, now, ain't it 
too bad we couldn't read them signs o' his'n," he 
muttered, as he seated himself in his favorite chair, 
placing his wooden leg out before him on a three- 
legged stool. He soon became so lost in thought 
about the ghost of the sailor that he failed to heed 
the stories of the ghosts at sea and other strange 
sights being told by the little group about him, for 
fisher- folks are a superstitious people who have seen 
in the silent watches of the night, alone with the 
majestic space of sky and sea, stranger visions than 
the heart of man ever conceived. 

On a dull gray morning of the week following, 
Captain Briggs was seated on a bench in front of 
his door with telescope to his eyes, watching the last 
of the fleet that had sailed at dawn. 

"A-hoy there, Capt'n," cried Johnny, flying down 
the beach as fast as his chubby brown legs could 
carry him. 

"All's well, my lad," he called in reply, putting 
down his glass to greet his little companion. 

"That Sailor Man's back, Capt'n," he said 
breathlessly. 



The Man Who Always Turned Up 133 

"God-bless-my-soul," cried the captain startled. 
"Ye don't say so. Where is he this time, my lad?" 

"There," cried the child, pointing to a rock some 
distance away. 

"Well, how does he look to-day, and what does 
he want?" 

Since the day of the great storm Captain Briggs 
had spent much time in thought over the strange 
coincidence of the appearance of the sailor on that 
day, and rather hoped he would come again so he 
could study him carefully and find out if possible 
the reason for his visits. 

So taking Johnny's hand he patted it and watched 
him earnestly, searching for some signs of the change 
in his eyes when seeing things which others could 
not. To all outward appearances, Johnny seemed 
a healthy, normal child, but the captain as he looked 
noted a queer expression in his wide-open eyes as 
though he were looking out and beyond, through the 
veil, perhaps, which hides the secrets of that other 
world from this. 

"Well, lad, how does he look to-day," he re- 
peated, laying his hand on the shoulder of the child 
to rouse him from the day-dream into which he 
seemed to have fallen. 

"Ye come along with me, Capt'n, to where he 
stands, and see fer yerself." 



134 The Man Who Always Turned Up 

And taking him by the hand, Captain Briggs 
hopped along beside him, resolving to humor the 
child into believing he, too, saw the sailor. 

"There he is, Capt'n; do you see 'im now? He 
stands there, lookin' out at sea the same as he did 
before. If he wants to go to sea in them boats, why 
don't he git here earlier in the day? 

"He must come from far away, lad, fer he don't 
belong to these here parts, I kin tell thet by the cut 
o' them clothes o' his'n." 

"Oh, then ye do see 'im, too," cried Johnny 
joyfully. 

"Aye, aye, lad," replied the captain gruffly, striv- 
ing to keep the tears from his voice, "but my old 
eyes can't see 'im as well as yours, so tell me how 
he looks to-day. 

"His eyes is smilin,' so he don't look so sad, but 
he keeps wavin' thet right arm o' his'n up and down 
so queer. What ails 'im, captain? 

"God-bless-my-soul, lad, I ain't any more fa- 
miliar with thet there sign language then ye be, jest 
yet. I wonder what he does mean, myself," he 
muttered, sweeping the sea and sky with his glass. 

"Well now, lad, I wonder what in tarnation he 
does mean, a smilin' in our faces on a gray day like 
this, with all signs of nasty weather, and a-frownin* 
like he did, the last time he come when the ships 
sailed away under fair skies. 



The Man Who Always Turned Up 135 

"What makes 'im wave his arms up and down 
like thet, capt'n? 

"I don't know, my lad, unless he's tryin* to signal 
to them ships. Well, God-bless-my-soul, but I 
do believe thet's what he's sent here for," he said 
thoughtfully, putting down his glass and looking at 
the child in blank amazement, as the reason for the 
sailor's appearance flashed upon his brain. "I hev 
heard before of them folks bein' sent as warnin's," 
he continued, raising his glass again to study the sky 
and sea. 

"Sent from where, capt'n? and who sent 'im, the 
government? and did they send 'im fer the Life 
Savers? 

"Aye, aye, lad, I guess the government does send 
them folks," answered the captain, feeling this to be 
no greater deception to the child than a fairy tale, 
and the One who governed the Universe could well 
be spoken of in this way with no disrespect. 

"Well then, captain, why don't he stay here?" 

"I guess, lad, he gits his orders from headquarters, 
so it ain't fer us to question. 

"But where does he go to, and how does he come 
and go and nobody sees him but us? 

"Well, I guess, lad, he must live with Santa 
Claus, fer he's the only one I know who comes and 
goes in the same way, but we ain't so much interested 



136 The Man Who Always Turned Up 

in where he goes to, or where he sleeps; what we 
want to know is, what he means when he does git 
here, a-wavin' his arms around like a lunatic," this 
last he half-muttered to himself. 

"Well now, capt'n, why didn't the government 
send us a man what kin talk, if he's got somethin' to 
say to us? 

"That's so, lad. I wonder myself why they 
didn't. 

"Can't ye write 'em a letter and ask 'em to send 
us another man, one thet kin talk and hear, too? 

"It's too fer from here, lad, I'm afeard my letter 
wouldn't do no good," and Captain Briggs chuckled 
softly to himself. "No, we ain't big enough to 
dictate to the government, we'll jest hev to take who 
it sends. You and me will keep this a secret, my 
lad, and wait until we find out what the Sailor Man 
means before we introdoose 'im to other people. 
Come now, lad, say good-day to 'im and then run 
home to dinner. 

"Well, God-bless-my-soul," cried the captain, 
blowing a long blast on the handkerchief which he 
waved in the air as was his custom, and also in fare- 
well to Johnny, whose fat little legs now bore him 
swiftly toward his home. 

"I must study out them signals of that Sailor 
Man what the good God has sent us, and find out 



The Man Who Always Turned Up 137 

whal; they mean. But I must be careful not to scare 
Johnny with his ghost, which he thinks the govern- 
ment has sent," and the captain's eyes twinkled, as, 
with another look at the sky, he turned and entered 
the door of his little house. 

This adjoined the Life Saving Station, and in it 
the captain's things were kept as snug and ship- 
shape as they had been in his cabin on board the 
sailing vessel which he commanded before the am- 
putation of his leg rendered him unfit for sea service. 

The berth of "Master of the Life Saving Station** 
at Sea Gull Harbor on the far coast of Maine, had 
been secured for him by his many friends among the 
mariners, and he and Johnny had been firm friends 
from the first, for when the captain arrived at his 
new post, his heart was as sore as was the stump of 
his leg which prevented him from going to sea in 
the vessel, which to him had been home so many 
years. 

Being a bachelor with no ties or kindred, the 
lonely old man had welcomed the prattle of the 
child and took him to his heart then and there, and 
for the ten short years of his life, Johnny and the 
captain had been inseparable. Johnny was very 
proud of the captain's wooden leg for in his eyes it 
gave him a distinction which the other men could 
not claim, and in turn Johnny became the apple o* 
the captain's heart. 



138 The Man Who Always Turned Up 

Three weeks later the fishing fleet returned with 
the biggest catch of the season, for which there was 
great rejoicing by all in the village. 

During the days which intervened before the fleet 
again set sail Captain Briggs thought and pondered 
deeply over the child's vision and the difference in 
the facial expression and actions of the "Sailor 
Man," and the results following each trip of the 
fleet. 

He questioned the child and noted carefully, that 
during his first vision, at the departure of the fleet 
which met with disaster, the sailor had seemed anx- 
ious and greatly distressed, and held his right arm 
rigidly outstretched before him. The second time, 
when the fleet sailed on what proved to be a most 
successful trip, he with smiling face, had watched it 
go, moving his right arm stiffly up and down. 

The morning the fleet sailed again, Johnny and 
the captain stood hand in hand, watching them de- 
part. "The Sailor Man's smiling this time, too, and 
waving his arm up and down!" shouted Johnny in 
delight. 

"If them signs of his'n to-day, mean fair weather, 
lad, as I cal'late they do from them being the same 
as they was last time, then these here wavin's of his 
arms is signals we'd ort to pay attention to, but I've 
got to git better acquainted with 'em first, to find 
out jest how reliable they be. 



The Man Who Alrvays Turned Up 139 

"Well now, capt'n, this man's a sailor so he 
must know what he's about, or the government 
wouldn't send 'im here where all the other folks is 
sailors, too. He must know mor'n we do, or else 
he ain't no good. 

"That's true, lad. I ain't doubting the Sailor 
Man's knowledge, but I'm afeard my old head won't 
git a hold o' thet sign language o' his'n jest right. 
We'll watch the result o' this trip carefully before 
we let any of our sailors know there's an agent of 
the government here with signals fer them to follow," 
said the captain, chuckling to himself. 

"But they'll find 'im out some day, fer he always 
stands out on that rock in plain sight. It's mighty 
queer they don't see 'im, too, isn't it, captain? 

"Well, no, lad, it ain't, when ye think how full 
their eyes be of the blue sky and sea. They ain't 
lookin' fer blue on the land and what ye ain't lookin' 
fer, lad, ye can't see, even if it be at the end o' 
yer nose. 

"Is thet the reason ye didn't see 'im the first 
time he come here, and ye put me to bed when 
no thin' ailed me?" asked Johnny seriously. 

"I reckon it was, my son. 

"But now ye know I ain't sick and the Sailor 
Man's true, don't ye?" cried Johnny joyfully. 

"Yes, lad, I'm mighty sure ye ain't sick this time 



HO The Man Who Always Turned Up 

but hev got powerful sharp eyes a-seein' folks what 
other folks don't. My old eyes is gettin* dim, so ye 
can't expect me to hev seen 'im on first sight, sonny, 
the same as ye. But now, lad, we must keep 'im 
to ourselves, so when he comes agin, and other 
folks is nigh, ye jest sing out, 'Ship ahoy, capt'n,' 
and wave yer arm up and down as he does, then 
you and me will hev a sign language of our own, and 
deef and dumb signals thet other folks can't read, 
hey, lad?" and the captain and Johnny laughed 
heartily over their secret. 

The "Sailor Man" continued to appear to Johnny 
promptly on time at each sailing of the fleet. He 
watched them from the rock on which he always 
stood and waved his signals, either with a frowning 
face or smiling eyes. 

These, the captain with Johnny *s assistance 
studied carefully during the next few months and 
worked out their meaning from the record of the 
trips. This record he kept as faithfully and with 
as much attention to detail as though it were the log 
of a ship to be read before and examined by the 
Board of Marines. Each statement was signed 
Capt. Briggs, Commander of U. S. Life Saving 
Station, Sea Gull Harbor, coast of Maine. 

This was done, as the captain explained, to show 
all due respect to the agent sent by the government, 



The Man Who Always Turned Up 141 

but which Johnny now knew to be a joke. The 
captain, realizing Johnny should be told the truth 
about the Sailor Man, had told him in such a way 
that he now felt as proud of his strange eyesight as 
he was of the captain's wooden leg, and he entered 
heartily into all the captain's plans regarding the 
signals. 

Those of the fishermen who stopped in to talk to 
the captain during the latter part of July, found he 
and Johnny busy over some strange contrivance, 
which the captain explained was a puzzle he and 
Johnny were working out together. 

A week later, there was much gossip and specu- 
lation over the strange kind of a weather-vane, being 
erected on the roof of John Parker's house. "The 
strangest ever seen in these or furrin parts," said the 
crowd of curious neighbors who gathered about to 
watch its construction. 

The captain hopped around briskly, giving orders 
to the one carpenter on the roof with Johnny, regret- 
ting that his wooden leg kept him on the ground. 

To all inquiries of the curious, the three were as 
deaf and dumb as the ghost of the sailor. 

Late in the day, the captain sent the crowd home 
with a wave of his handkerchief and the promise that 
if they would return the next morning at ten o'clock 
and bring all of their friends and neighbors as well, 



142 The Man Who Always Turned Up 

he would explain the object and working of the queer 
"contraption" which had so excited their curiosity, 
and with another flourish of the red handkerchief the 
crowd dispersed to their homes to spread the news 
and give the invitation to the neighborhood. 

The next morning, long before the appointed 
hour, the crowd began to gather about Mrs. Parker's 
cottage. Mothers with babes in their arms were 
there, anxious that in years to come the child could 
say it had been present at the first exhibition of this 
new invention, whatever it might turn out to be. 
Trembling and feeble old men, leaning on the arms 
of stalwart sons or daughters, were led forth that 
their failing eyes might gaze on this new-fangled 
weathervane. Young girls with the eager eyes of 
youth were there, as were also young men ready to 
scoff with the presumptious knowledge of inexperi- 
ence. 

The crowd grew until it seemed that most of the 
three hundred souls in the little hamlet had gathered 
there. 

Johnny flew in and out, up and down, with a 
manner mysterious as well as important, deaf to all 
questions and good-natured jokes. 

Mrs. Parker, her hair sleek and smooth, clad in 
her best black gown in honor of the great occasion, 
sat nervously waiting for the captain, and shrank 



The Man Who Always Turned Up 143 

from the view of the crowd which peered in through 
the window, with friendly eyes. 

Promptly at ten o'clock the captain appeared hop- 
ping briskly down the street, with coat-tails flying, 
clad in his Sunday best, a serious expression on his 
ruddy face. 

With respectful greetings the crowd parted to al- 
low him to pass through to the house, which he 
entered. After greeting Mrs. Parker, he came out 
and down the steps, and, glancing up at the signal 
with critical eye, saluted Johnny, who now stood 
beside the tall pole like a little sentinal on duty. 

"Ahoy there, my mate," he called out cheerily, 
"hev ye all sails set? 

"Aye, aye, sir," replied Johnny, saluting gravely, 
while the crowd looked on with eager curiosity. 

Mounting the steps, Captain Briggs blew a long 
blast on the red handkerchief, then clearing his throat 
began. 

"Friends, neighbors and fellow citizens, ye hev 
been asked here to-day to listen to a strange tale I 
hev to tell ye. It might not be believed if we wa'n't 
all followers of the sea and had heerd strange tales 
before." 

Here the captain paused impressively, while the 
crowd gazed back at him with expectant eyes. 

"We ain't none of us forgot thet great storm we 



144 The Man Who Always Turned Up 

had on April 23 rd, last, which sent some of our 
men to watery graves, leavin' sad hearts and homes 
here on shore," and the captain paused again and 
blew his nose vigorously to clear the tears from his 
voice, caused by the sobbing of those newly be- 
reaved. 

"We seen the fishin* fleet go out thet day with 
all signs o' fair weather writ on sea and sky, so 
never dreamed of the storm thet was nigh. But the 
good God knew thet storm was due and he sent a 
messenger to warn us o' it. 

"Where'd he come from? Who sent him? We 
didn't see no stranger nigh abouts," called out sev- 
eral voices from the crowd, interrupting the captain, 
who cleared his throat and began again, feeling it 
quite a delicate matter to inform his questioners that 
he was speaking of a ghost. 

"Well, now, mates, jest wait a bit till I explain 
things more clearly. I wa'n't able to see 'im myself 
when he came, fer the good God who sent 'im didn't 
focus my old eyes jest right to see the spirits o' the 
dead, for the messenger he sent us is the spirit o' a 
sailor; but Johnny lad here has the eyes to see 'im 
as none o' the rest o' ye can." 

At this all eyes turned on Johnny, who squirmed 
under their scrutiny and blushed deeply at this refer- 
ence to himself. 



The Man Who Always Turned Up 145 

"But, mates, if ye'll believe me, when the lad first 
told me of the Sailor Man, I thought somethin' 
ailed 'im, so he was put to bed and physiced to 
draw them dreams out o' his head!" here the crowd 
laughed heartily. "We wa'n't to blame, but we 
should hev tried to find out what the child meant, 
a-talkin' 'bout a Sailor Man none o' us could see, 
so the warnin' sent us went unheeded. Then the 
storm came and I remembered that Sailor Man and 
knew he had been sent to tell us o' it and wondered 
would he come ag'in to Johnny. And mates, he's 
been comin' reg'ler as clockwork every time the fleet 
sails. But the curious thing 'bout him is, he peers to 
be deef and dumb, fer he don't speak a word what 
Johnny lad kin hear. And so, it took some time fer 
my old brains to study out the reason fer his comin' 
and the meanin' o' the wavin' o' his arms. 

"I hev kept a faithful record o' his visits and hev 
learned to read his signals through Johnny's eyes, 
and mates, he ain't made no mistake nary time he's 
been here. His signals is always set true, no matter 
what our signs point to. I'll read ye the record I've 
kept so ye kin see fer yourselves how accuret he is," 
and the captain reached for the pocket in his coat- 
tail, while the crowd availed itself of this oppor- 
tunity to discuss the strange occurrence. 

With a flourish of his handkerchief for silence, 



146 The Man Who Always Turned Up 

the captain continued, and in a loud voice read from 
the book he held in his hand. 

"April 23rd, 1 852. A sailor from the Unknown, 
dressed in blue, appeared to Johnny Parker. He 
had an anxious expression on his face, his right arm 
was extended stiffly pointing out to sea. 

"NOTE — Sea calm. Wind West. Fair 
weather due. 

"NOTE — Great storm at sea. Sixteen men and 
two boats lost. 

"May 15th, 1852. Same sailor from the Un- 
known appeared. 

"Blue clothes — Smiling face — Moving right arm 
up and down stiffly. 

"NOTE — Sky dull and overcast. Sea squally, 
wind East by Sou'east. 

"NOTE — Successful trip — Big catch. 

"May 31st, 1852. Same sailor, same clothes. 
Smiling face — Right arm moving up and down — 
Blue sky — Fair sea. 

"NOTE— Same result as on May 15th. Big 
catch. 

"June 16, 1852 — Same sailor, same clothes — 
Anxious face — Right arm extended out before him. 

"NOTE— Wind West— Weather fair— Sea 
calm — Sudden storm — Men and boats lost. 

"June 29th, 1 852 — Same sailor appeared — Smil- 
ing face — Right arm moving up and down. 



The Man Who Always Turned Up 147 

"Weather dull and threatening — Sea rough — 
Wind East by Nor'east. 

"NOTE — Successful trip — good catch. 

"July 1 5th, 1 852 — Same sailor appeared — Smil- 
ing face — Right arm moving up and down — Sea 
calm — Weather fair — Wind due West. 

"NOTE — Successful trip — Big catch. 

"Recorded by Capt. Briggs, Commander of U. 
S. Life Saving Station, Sea Gull Harbor, coast of 
Maine." 

Captain Briggs read the last solemnly and im- 
portantly, then replacing the book in his pocket, 
blew a blast on his nose and waving his hand for 
silence to the crowd that had again broken forth in 
animated discussion, said: 

"Now, mates, if this had been the spirit o* a land- 
lubber who was sent us, I wouldn't a-taken no heed 
to them signals o' his'n, f er as ye can see by this, 
some of 'em was set dead ag'in the ones you and 
me knows, which was handed down to us by our 
fathers and their fathers before 'em. But the good 
God knew what he was about when he sent a sailor 
to warn them thet follow the sea. After all these 
weeks and months I've spent in studyin' them signals 
and found 'em always set true, I cal'late they've 
stood a fair test and we'd ort to use 'em and show 
our appreciashun of havin' 'em sent us from on high, 



148 The Man Who Always Turned Up 

or else the Lord might take 'em away and give 'em 
to some other folks who ain't above bein' guided by 
a spirit. Ain't thet so, mates? 

"Aye, aye, Capt'n," called out several in reply, 
as the captain paused and looked about. 

"That's right, Capt'n, don't ye let thet there ghost 
escape ye," cried one of the fishermen, and the 
younger men laughed with him, but were frowned on 
by the older and more serious. 

The captain, ignoring a reply to the irreverent 
youth, continued his remarks. 

"So, my mates, I hev worked out them signs o' 
his'n and hev put up this signal ye see here on the 
roof fer our benefit. Them two blades ye see there," 
he cried, as he hopped down the steps and pointed 
up at the signal, with the eyes of the crowd follow- 
ing, "them two blades correspond to his arms and 
will always be set accordin' to the directions he gives. 
And bein' on top of the roof here, they kin be seen 
by all in the village and quite a distance out to sea. 

"The mornin' the ships go to sea, he always turns 
up in plenty o' time before they leave to make a 
change in case the danger signal is up. And as his 
signals is always set true, woe to ye if ye do not 
heed 'em. 

"Now, so ye kin see what signal means 'danger/ 
and what means 'go ahead,' I'll hev 'em set fer ye. 



The Man Who Always Turned Up 149 

Ahoy, lad," he cried gruffly, "set the danger signal. 

"Aye, aye, Capt'n," piped Johnny's voice in re- 
ply, and the red arm-like blade shot forth quickly 
from the tall white pole, and remained at right angles 
while the crowd looked on and cheered. 

"Ahoy my lad — fair weather," called the captain 
as soon as he could be heard. 

"Aye, aye, sir," replied the childish voice eag- 
erly, and the red blade was replaced by one of white 
which moved up and down automatically and the 
crowd again broke into cheers. 

Johnny's face beamed with pride and the captain 
blew his noise loudly as he mounted the steps and 
raised his hand for silence. 

"Now, my friends, we'd ort to be mighty proud 
and thankful to know we was so well thought of by 
the Almighty, thet He's sent a spirit from out thet 
great multitude around His white throne, to come 
here and guide us from the perils o' the sea," he 
cried, growing eloquent. "Ye aint' never heerd tell 
o* any other fishin' village a-bein' so honored, hev 
ye? 

"None thet I've ever heerd of in my time," re- 
plied an old and toothless man. 

"Nor me, neither," shouted several from the 
crowd. 

"Well, now, thet shows the Almighty has taken 



150 The Man Who Alrvays Turned Up 

a great likin' to us and has looked down in pity on 
the orphans and widders here fer the loved ones 
they've lost, and has sent us this Sailor Man, with 
his signals to prevent any more sech disasters at sea. 

"And this bein' a sort o' deddicatin' o* this signal 
set by the angel o' the Lord, fer sech, to me, the 
spirit o' thet sailor seems to be, it is a solemn occasion 
and one we'd ort to give thanks to the Almighty fer, 
but as I ain't good at pray in' in public, I'll dismiss 
ye, by askin' ye to all sing the 'Doxology,' " and 
the captain clasped his hands and bowed his head. 

The crowd joined in heartily, even those who had 
dared to jeer, being touched by the captain's earn- 
estness, mingled their voices with the trembling tones 
of the aged, and the sound of that beautiful hymn 
floated far out to sea. As the last note died away 
die crowd looked up and gave three hearty cheers. 
One for the captain, one for Johnny, and one for 
the sailor. 

The captain blew a long blast on his nose in 
salute to the honor, and waved his handkerchief in 
the air, while Johnny bowed acknowledgment for 
himself and the sailor who, silent and tall, stood 
beside him with folded arms. 

Johnny, who had expressed a desire to the captain 
that the Sailor Man be present on this occasion, al- 
though not expecting him as it was not the day for 



The Man Who Always Turned Up 151 

the vessels to sail, was not at all surprised to find him 
standing by the signal early that morning, for 
Johnny considered it most appropriate that he should 
be there. 

The crowd quickly scattered to their homes, leav- 
ing a little group of the old men, anxious as children 
to stay and watch the working of this new "contrap- 
tion" of the captain's, and to please them Johnny 
worked the signals according to the captain's orders 
until his little arms gave out and the captain's voice 
grew hoarse. 

Then the old men went home to join in the dis- 
cussion now rife in every household. Fathers and 
sons, husbands and wives, brothers, all were divided 
as to the wisdom or folly of their being guided by 
a signal set by a ghost. 

There was much laughter, jeering and coarse 
jokes, by the young men over their beer or grog, in 
the little tavern that evening. The captain was ac- 
cused of being "nutty" and in his second childhood, 
and the boy dreaming. But the older and wiser 
men went back in memory to tales of the sea, and 
told of big sailing ships being guided to safety by 
a ghostly hand at the wheel. 

On the next sailing day, all eyes eagerly sought 
the signal, which they found set for danger in spite 
of a gray dawn, a quiet sea and a fair west wind. 



T52 The Man Who Always Turned Up 

The older men tried to persuade the young and 
hardy fishermen to wait over a day and give the sig- 
nal a trial. 

"Not they," they said, with sneering lips. "They 
knew a thing or two about the weather. All the 
signals they cared to follow, was the ones writ in 
sea and sky. These were good enough fer them. 
Were they fools to be guided by a doddering old 
man and a sailors' ghost? Not they, and the sailor 
must be blind as well as dumb to set sech a signal 
as thet there, on a day like this." 

And so these dauntless fishermen sailed away, de- 
fying Fate. And whether the ghost in charge of the 
signal thought it a good opportunity to teach them a 
lesson, or not, or some evil spirit in the wind heard 
them boast, there came a sudden storm seemingly 
out of the blue sky and sent several of these doubt- 
ing youths to the bottom of the sea. 

This was the only lesson necessary. From then 
on the sailor's signals were religiously obeyed, and 
the strange signal on the roof of Johnny's house was 
looked upon with awe and reverence by all as being 
in charge of one sent from on high. And the little 
children listen with rapt attention to the story of the 
Sailor Man who comes and sets the signals right for 
the fishermen who go out to sea. 

Johnny is an old man now. His stalwart son 



The Man Who Always Turned Up 153 

goes to sea, fearlessly, knowing that when his father 
is called to join the captain, who is now with the 
sailor, that the signals will continue to be set true, 
for the good God has given Johnny's grandson eyes 
with which to see the spirit of the sailor who always 
turns up promptly to warn them before the sailing 
of the fishing fleet. 



. . . the works that I do shall he do also; and 
greater works than these shall he do; , -. ." — St. John 
14: 12, 



WHAT AMOS JONES DREW IN THE 
GREAT LOTTERY 



What Amos jfones Drew in the 
Great Lottery 

Nestled in a valley, 'mid the foothills of the 
mountain range whose white-capped ridge crosses 
and links the sister States of New Hampshire and 
Vermont, is the little town of Larkspur. 

Because of its altitude and picturesque situation 
on the bank of a small river which winds in and 
around through the valley, Larkspur drew to it many 
visitors during the summer season. And many who 
came because of its bracing air and fine view re- 
mained, making it their permanent home. 

In this way the little village outgrew its swaddling- 
clothes of babyhood and became a town almost be- 
fore anyone was aware of it. Then it was made the 
County Seat, at which place the annual County 
Fair was held, and for this great event the members 
of the summer colony always remained before sepa- 
rating for their homes in the city. 

The weather had been ideal for days, the air cool 
and crisp with a hint of early autumn and the sky 
one vast canopy of blue over which clouds, like 
flecks of cotton, floated as the wind-god willed, and 
at night, the blue canopy became one of deeper hue. 



158 What Amos Jones 

like velvet, over which the stars were sprinkled with 
a lavish hand. These gleamed brightly until the 
full moon arose and dimmed their light with its 
greater splendor. 

The roads were in fine condition and on this, the 
opening day of the County Fair, the main highway 
as well as all of the smaller roads leading to Lark- 
spur were filled with vehicles of every description, 
all bound for the one great attraction. 

As the horses flew by or jogged along at an even 
trot, much gossip and speculation were enjoyed be- 
tween the passing groups as to what would be the 
prizes in the "Joke Lottery'* this year. So with 
merry jest and laughter, among the young people, 
as they recalled those offered at previous fairs, they 
hurried on eager and curious to learn what the 
managers would be carefully guarding from them. 

Each year the directors of the fair arranged a 
lottery for the benefit of some charity. The prizes 
offered were always unique and often absurd, which 
accounted for its being known as the "Joke Lottery." 
It was always the great attraction and one to which 
both old and young looked forward eagerly. 

With bands of music, flying flags and much noise 
of "barkers" before the different amusement booths, 
the fair was opened. As usual the largest crowd 
was gathered about the "Joke Lottery." They jos- 



Drew in the Great Lottery 159 

tied and joked each other good-humoredly as they 
patiently waited and wondered what was behind the 
closed curtains. 
The sign 

"become a life saver 

by taking a chance 

in this great lottery," 

over the top of the booth, in letters of black, only 
added to their curiosity without in any way giving 
a hint as to what it contained. 

Merriment was added to wonder, as visions of 
life-savers rescuing storm-tossed passengers at sea, 
danced before their eyes and caused them to ques- 
tion how it were possible to become a life saver so 
far from the sea, and with only a small river near 
by, through which a child could almost wade. 

The crowd around the booth grew in size as the 
hour for the opening drew near, until there was 
scarcely breathing space in the little hall in which 
the lottery was held. 

Promptly at ten o'clock, Hiram Brown, one of 
the managers, mounted the platform to address the 
audience, and the curtains of the booth were drawn 
aside revealing a very pretty tableau. 

Against a background of spruce and pine, inter- 
mingled with brilliant autumn foliage, were effective- 



160 What Amos Jones 

ly grouped six people. Seated at a table in the 
centre was an old couple who looked out on the sea 
of people with smiling eyes and the childish curiosity 
of the aged. 

On either side of them stood a young woman. 
The one on the right was a large blond with rosy 
cheeks glowing like a full-blown peony, while on the 
left stood a shy little brown-eyed maid, who, like a 
modest violet, dropped her eyes from the gaze of the 
crowd and clasped and unclasped her hands ner- 
vously. 

Seated on the floor were two children, a boy and 
a girl of about the same age, apparently unconscious 
of their strange surroundings, for they played with 
their new toys as happily as though at home. 

With a storm of applause the crowd greeted Hi- 
ram, as with a bow of acknowledgement he waved 
his hand for silence. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, friends and fellow citi- 
zens, this year we, the managers of the Fair, have 
departed from our custom of former years, and have 
decided that, instead of devoting the profit of this 
lottery as usual to some one particular charity, we 
will divide it into six equal parts, corresponding to 
the number of the prizes we are offering, and re- 
ward each winner accordingly.'* 

The crowd gasped in amazement at this an- 



Drew in the Great Lottery 161 

nouncement, and a hum of voices rose so that Hiram 
was obliged to pause in his speech until the excite- 
ment abated somewhat and he could make himself 
heard. 

"You see by this sign, my friends," he continued, 
"we ask you to take a chance in this lottery and 
thereby become a life-saver. We cannot all go to 
war, especially the ladies," and here Hiram stopped 
to bow to the fair sex in his audience, "and become 
heroes as soldiers, nor can we all rescue those who 
go down with the ships at sea, but we can stay right 
here at home and become heroes just as great. 

"Here, before you, are six human beings who are 
homeless and destitute of friends, shipwrecks on 
life's sea. We ask you to come to their rescue by 
taking them to your hearts and homes. 

"You will, by relieving these people from poverty 
and loneliness, be doing as great a deed to humanity 
as though you had gone through fire and smoke to 
rescue them from a burning building, or had gone 
down into deep waters to save them from drowning. 
You, I repeat, will be heroes by taking these people 
to your hearts and homes, and thereby keeping them 
from the fire of poverty, and the deep waters of 
despair. What greater deed can a man or woman 
do than that?" he asked earnestly, and the crowd 
cheered its approval, as he paused. 



162 What Amos Jones 

"Now, my friends," he continued when he could 
make himself heard, "the hero who rescues a human 
life, whether from a burning building or a sinking 
ship, or, as a soldier carries a wounded comrade 
across the battlefield midst shot and shell, is entitled 
to some worthy reward. In carrying these people 
off the battlefield of life, to a place of safety in your 
homes, you are doing as great a deed as any soldier 
who ever had a monument erected to his name for 
bravery, and so we, the managers, propose to reward 
our heroes in the same way and to erect a monument 
to the memory of each prize winner when they die.*' 
At this the crowd broke forth with wild cheering, 
accompanied by the waving of hats and handker- 
chiefs. 

During this tumult, the two children clung with 
frightened faces to the skirts of the old lady, who 
soothed their fears as she looked on with smiling 
eyes, and the old man wiped away the tears which 
stole down his withered cheeks. 

Waving his hand for silence Hiram continued his 
remarks: 

"I am very glad indeed, my friends, to see that 
our idea of bringing charity direct to your homes, 
meets with your hearty approval. It agrees with 
my theory that we all welcome charity when charity 
comes to us gowned attractively. Now, as I said 



Drew in the Great Lottery 163 

before, what greater deed can one do than to take 
into his or her home either one of this aged couple 
and give rest to their tired hands and weary limbs, 
so that they may travel in peace the last short end 
of life's road. Or, what greater deed can we do, 
than to take either of these little ones into our hearts 
and homes and start them safely out on the highway 
of life, guarded by our love, and kept from tempta- 
tion by our prayers. No better service can a man 
give than this, for as Christ said, 'Whatsoever ye do 
unto these, the least of my brethren, ye do it unto 
me.' ' A few in the crowd cried "Amen" aloud, 
while others let the tears roll down their cheeks 
unwiped. 

"Now, then, my friends," cried Hiram, with a 
quick change of voice and a merry twinkle in his 
eye, "I feel I must address my remarks to the single 
men and bachelors alone, who are here in this audi- 
ence, when I speak of the two beautiful young wo- 
men you see before you." 

Conscious of the admiring eyes cast upon her, the 
tall blond seemed to blaze forth more showily, and 
turned about to exhibit her good points coquetishly, 
not unlike the slave girls of India, anxious to show 
off their charms; while the modest little violet 
blushed deeply and shrank from the public gaze, 
which to her seemed cruel; and with one startled 



164 What Amos Jones 

glance at the crowd turned as though to fly like 
some frightened doe from the range of the huntsman. 

"Here are two fair women, standing at the thresh- 
old of life. Looking out at the world with wonder- 
ing eyes, they stand alone, without the protection of 
father, brother or home. What nobler deed could 
a young man do than to rescue them from the pit- 
falls and dangers of life which beset the unprotected 
woman. Come on! my friends," he exclaimed, 
growing eloquent, "be like the knights of old, who 
buckled on their armor and, entering the arena, 
fought for the hand of fair lady and rescued her from 
ill fate! Come on! you young men and bachelors, 
buckle on your armor, enter the arena of life repre- 
sented by this lottery and go in and win your fair 
lady, whose homeless and unprotected condition 
must appeal to the heart of every true man. Come 
on, and win for yourself a wife!" cried Hiram en- 
thusiastically, as though leading a charge to battle. 

"W-a-1-1, n-o-w, I want to know if one of them 
momuments goes with them there gals, too," drawled 
out a long, lanky individual from the crowd. "Fer 
to my mind, it ain't fair to make a hero out of a 
feller fer gittin' married, 'specially to a good lookin' 
gal like them there. Tain't fair, I say." 

The crowd shouted with delight while the black 
eyes of the stout woman beside him snapped, and 



Drew in the Great Lottery 165 

the lanky individual shifted uneasily, realizing too 
late the curtain lecture in store for him later. 

"That's so," called out another voice from the 
crowd. "Tain't fair to give a feller a momument 
jest for gettin' married. What's the matter with 
givin' 'em to the rest of us heroes who are already 
married. They ain't doin' anything greater than we 
did when we give our wives home and shelter, and I 
don't see why they deserve a momument any more 
than we do, onless hereafter tickets entitling a feller 
to a momument is attached to all marriage certifi- 
cates." 

At this pandemonium broke loose. The crowd 
howled and cheered, while Hiram waved his hand 
for silence and vainly tried to make himself heard 
above the noise. 

Finally, after the crowd had shouted itself hoarse 
and the tumult had subsided, Hiram turned to the 
long and lanky individual who had interrupted him 
and said: 

"My friend, what you say is true. No man 
is entitled to have a monument erected to his mem- 
ory simply for marrying or doing a selfish act, and 
you have raised a question which never occurred to 
any of the managers. We felt that the young men 
who were lucky enough to draw these fair maidens 
and win them as wives, thus rescuing them from the 



166 What Amos Jones 

hardships, poverty, and temptations which their 
heauty and homeless condition subject them to, 
would be heroes indeed, and would deserve as great 
a reward as if they had saved them from a burning 
house or sinking ship." 

"And to my way o' thinkin' they desarve it a 
mighty sight mor'n the others dew," shouted an 
elderly man from the rear of the crowd, as Hiram 
paused a moment. "Fer, to me, it seems a mighty 
rash act, a marryin* one of them there gals they 
don't know nothin' about. I'd sooner step right up 
to the mouth of a cannon, than to stick my head 
into any such noose. So, I'm perfectly willin' they 
should have a momument fer their bravery, fer they 
desarve it, too." 

At this the crowd broke into laughter and all 
talked at once. Arguments, for and against reward- 
ing the young men for winning the young women 
for wives, waged fast and furious. 

Hiram, realizing the uselessness of attempting to 
add any further remarks or to call the excited crowd 
to order, started the sale of tickets and with much 
laughter and joking the lottery was opened. 

The married men bought tickets as freely as the 
young men and bachelors, for, they argued in self- 
defence, it cost no more to support a pretty girl than 
it did a plain one and an extra pair of hands were 
always needed on a farm. 



Drew in the Great Lottery 167 

The wives, without little ones of their own, bought 
chances hoping one of the children would fall to 
their lot. While all knew they ran the risk of draw- 
ing either of the old couple, few bought tickets with 
that object in view. 

Among the group of men about the Lottery booth 
was Amos Jones, a fine young fellow, large of frame 
and long of limb. His blue eyes met the gaze of 
all men fearlessly, but fell before the eyes of most 
women ; whether they were the eyes of young maid- 
ens, holding tantalizing mischief within their depths, 
or the eyes of older maidens with a hope for the 
deeper knowledge of life which only love can give, 
or the wise eyes of the widow full of sweet memo- 
ries, or even the eyes of mothers seeing all things to 
be great and good because of having given sons and 
daughters to the world, nearly all alike caused 
Amos' eyes to fall. Only into the eyes of the aged, 
dim and blurred, could he look without the scarlet 
flame mounting quickly to his face; so, for this 
reason, he was called "Blushing Amos." 

He was a fine young fellow in spite of his extreme 
bashfulness which made him so uncomfortable in 
the presence of the opposite sex, and was regarded 
as quite a catch by all mothers with marriageable 
daughters, their maiden aunts, and gossiping old 
ladies. His father had been the 'Squire of the 



168 What Amos Jones 

village and their house, which stood back from the 
main street, with large, well-kept grounds and tall 
pillared porch, was the "great" house there. 

Mrs. Jones, his mother, was a gentle, refined wom- 
an, who presided over her household with gracious 
dignity and had held the reigns of government in her 
hands since the death of her husband. It is true, 
these delicate, fair hands were guided and directed 
by the strong clear brain of Amos, but it pleased 
the gracious lady to think she alone controlled them, 
and Amos, like a dutiful son, helped to keep up 
the delusion. 

The first glance at the shy little brown-eyed maid 
in the group of prizes on the platform caused Amos 
to feel a great wave of pity well up in his heart and 
flow to her. He realized, with the sympathy which 
only one as shy as he could feel, her natural shrink- 
ing from the gaze of the gaping, curious crowd. He 
pitied her from the bottom of his heart for the un- 
fortunate circumstance of her life, that had caused 
one so delicate and refined as she to take this method 
to escape its hardships. He felt a strong desire to 
protect her from the coarse jest or cruel remark of 
the vulgar, but his natural timidity prevented him 
from going forward and addressing her as all others 
felt at liberty to do. He therefore kept on guard, 
at a distance, as a self-appointed knight, whose duty 



Drew in the Great Lottery 169 

it was to be on hand to protect his fair lady, and if 
necessary, to fight in her defence. 

Pity quickly grew into a warmer feeling with 
Amos, who haunted the fair, day and night, always 
keeping at a distance from her and too shy to speak. 
He bought tickets for the lottery recklessly, and 
without a thought of the risk he was taking, as to 
the possibility of winning all six prizes, in the hope 
of securing the one his heart desired. 

The night before the last day of the fair, Amos, 
still on guard, stole up near the booth just at closing 
time, to catch one glance from the brown eyes be- 
fore leaving. 

The blond, with her bold free manner, had proved 
a favorite from the start and was now the centre of 
an admiring group of men, whose familiarity she 
did not resent, and she rather seemed to enjoy her 
position of being thus in the lime-light. 

The little brown-eyed maid stood alone, looking 
pale and tired. Amos felt such a strong desire 
to take her in his arms and carry her off that before 
he knew it he had blurted out, with trembling lips, 
"I hope I'll draw you." 

She looked up quickly at the sound of his voice, 
and with blushing face but fearless eyes smiled back 
at him as she whispered softly, "I hope so, too." 

This sent him flying home with all the blood in his 



170 What Amos Jones 

big body flaming in his face, his heart beating with 
a joy so great he could not sleep. He tossed the 
long night through. The throbbing of his heart 
seemed to keep time to the ticking of the clock as 
it sent the hours of the night away forever and 
brought in on wings of hope those of the great new 
day. 

The fame of the Great Life Saving Lottery had 
spread like wild-fire throughout the country, and 
from miles around in every direction people flocked 
to see the prizes offered. 

Intense excitement and rivalry prevailed among 
young and old. Men, women and even children 
took chances in the wild hope of winning a prize, 
and thus gaining the honor of having a monument 
erected to their memory. Everyone seemed crazed 
with a desire to be so honored. Even the betting on 
horses paled beside the excitement of taking a chance 
in this strange Lottery. 

On the last day the crowd was the greatest ever 
known at the Fair. And by the way the money 
poured in, a man could reasonably expect, if he won 
a prize, to have his monument tipped with pure gold. 

There was scarcely breathing space in the hall as 
the time drew near for the drawing to take place. 

Promptly at nine o'clock, Hiram Brown mounted 
the platform, a little girl and boy, who were to draw 



Drew in the Great Lottery 171 

the fatal numbers, clinging to each of his hands. 
The loud burst of applause which greeted their ap- 
pearance, caused them to cling more closely to 
Hiram as he led them forth to bow their acknowl- 
edgement. This they did, each with a frightened 
nod and blushing face. They were then blind- 
folded and placed one on each side of a table, in 
the centre of which were two baskets containing the 
coupons with numbers corresponding to those on 
the tickets. 

Not a sound was heard as the crowd waited for 
the drawing to begin. Hiram Brown stepped for- 
ward and smiling, said, "Ladies and gentlemen: 
The managers wish to thank you for your very 
generous response to our appeal to your hearts. 
Never before was such a desire shown to secure the 
prizes offered as on this occasion. Our unique idea 
of offering these homeless, people as prizes, shows 
plainly how ready all are to do an act of charity 
when it is presented in an attractive way. It fills our 
hearts with joy when we realize how gladly each and 
every one of the six people here will be welcomed 
into the hearts and homes of those fortunate enough 
to win. And now, ladies and gentlemen, as age 
should always go before beauty, we will proceed to 
offer these dear old people first." 

Hiram turned to the group seated on the plat- 



172 What Amos Jones, 

form, and led the old couple forward, where they 
stood smiling and awkward, bowing to the audience. 
As the little boy and girl placed their hands into 
the basket and each drew a number the silence was 
intense. The bachelors held their breath in suspense 
and married men who were now too bountifully 
blessed with dependent relatives, gave a sigh of 
relief as the old lady and gentleman were quickly 
disposed of, each going most happily to families 
with hearts as large as their farms. 

Hiram now announced that as the best was al- 
ways reserved for the last, they would next draw 
lots for the two children. 

Again the bachelors and young men held their 
breath with fear, and silence reigned supreme as the 
number was drawn which disposed of the little girl, 
who was handed over to the care of a recently be- 
reaved couple; whose joy was so great that their 
tears flowed freely and the crowd cheered its ap- 
proval. 

Then with a shout and a roar so great that it near- 
ly raised the roof with deafening applause, the little 
boy fell to the lot of Amos Jones. Amos, blushing 
furiously, was obliged to mount the platform to re- 
ceive the child who, frightened at the noise, clung 
tightly to his neck. Stumbling and awkward, in his 
confusion and desire to get out of sight quickly, 



Drew in the Great Lottery) 173 

Amos disappeared through the door back of the 
stage which led into a room in the rear of the build- 
ing. He sat down to quiet the frightened child, glad 
of this retreat from the laughter and jokes of the 
public, and so failed to hear the renewed clapping 
of hands, shouting and screaming which followed 
the second calling of his name. He only half 
realized what was being said by those who rushed 
in and took the child from his arms and led him 
to the platform again. This time to receive the 
hand of the little brown-eyed maid, who welcomed 
him shyly, while the crowd went wild with joy at 
the fate that had given a woman and child to the 
most bashful man in town. With a happy light in 
his eye, and a strong clasp of the hand, although 
blushing deeply and feeling as if in a dream, Amos 
led the little brown-eyed maid off the stage to the 
room in the rear where his other prize now slept 
in the arms of a kind neighbor, and there tried to 
realize the extent of his possessions, which the "Old 
Woman at the spinning-wheel," in a merry mood, 
had given him. Perhaps she realized that, on ac- 
count of his extreme bashfulness, these treasures 
would never be his, unless some Weaver of Destiny, 
such as she, wove them into the pattern of his life. 
This Old Dame who weaves away, with apparent 
unconcern, the pattern of our lives according to her 



174 What Amos Jones 

own choosing, throws into them a color to suit her 
own fancy, making it bright or dull according to 
her mood, must have been in great good humor 
when she picked up the threads of the life of the 
woman and child, and wove them as pure gold into 
the life of Amos Jones. 

So engrossed in their own destiny were the little 
group of three they failed to hear the loud clap- 
ping and cheers as the last prize, the blond, was dis- 
posed of to a rich old widower from a nearby town, 
who was known to be seeking a young wife. So 
the kind old Spinner of Fate seemed to have stepped 
in and distributed the prizes as she saw fit, seeing 
that each went to the one most worthy to receive 
the gift. 

Fearing to face the laughter and jokes of his 
friends, Amos remained in his retreat as long as 
possible. 

"The hour is late and this dear child must be 
put to bed," said Mrs. Quinn, the kind neighbor, 
in whose arms it had been sleeping. So Amos set 
his teeth, and, summoning all his courage to face the 
ordeal he felt was before him, opened the door and 
stepped forth with his two prizes. 

They were greeted by hearty cheers from the 
crowd without, who had waited their appearance 
and now gathered about the little group to congratu- 



Drew in the Great Lottery 1 75 

late Amos on his luck, and the little brown-eyed 
maid on her good fortune. Some of the young 
people insisted upon escorting him, and the family 
that Fate had thrust upon him, to his home, and 
there left him at the gate with more cheers and good 
wishes. 

Mrs. Jones who had waited to say good-night to 
her son, dropped the book she was reading and hur- 
ried to the door anxious as to the cause of the noise 
outside. 

She stood in the doorway puzzled, as she watched 
the little procession come slowly up the walk, Amos 
ahead with the little brown-eyed maid walking tim- 
idly behind him, and Mrs. Quinn, with the sleeping 
child, bringing up the rear. 

There was an awkward pause for a moment as 
Mrs. Jones surveyed the little group before her 
in silent amazement. Amos felt his tongue grow 
thick and cleave to the roof of his mouth as he tried 
to stammer out an introduction to the woman and 
child he had drawn in the lottery. 

"What are you saying, my son?" exclaimed Mrs. 
Jones, looking from one to the other in wonderment, 
as he tried vainly to explain that the girl and baby 
belonged to him. 

"He do be tellin* ye, Mrs. Jones, ma'm, that he 
drew thim foine prizes this night in the lottery,** 



[176 What Atrvos Jones 

spoke up Mrs. Quinn. "And a foine baby it is too, 
ain't it, ma'm?" she cried, thrusting the child for- 
ward eagerly for Mrs. Jones' inspection. 

"Mercy! What's that you say, Mrs. Quinn? 
These people belong to my son? Have you lost 
your senses?" asked Mrs. Jones in a horrified voice, 
thrusting the child from her. "Mercy 1 Mrs. Quinn, 
don't leave that child here. Take it away, until I 
can talk this matter over with my son. This is too 
much of a joke for me to appreciate," she said, turn- 
ing to Amos, who stood looking like a culprit, but 
offering no excuse for the mischief he had done. "If 
you will send these people home with Mrs. Quinn for 
the night, we then can talk the matter over and find 
some way out of the very embarrassing situation you 
have put yourself in by your foolishness in accepting 
these people, even if you did draw them in a lottery." 
"This is no joke, mother, these people belong to 
me and so have come to stay," replied Amos earnest- 
ly, his courage now asserting itself, being aroused by 
the tears which stood in the brown eyes at the cold- 
ness of the reception accorded her. "There is no 
way out of the situation. I won these people and so 
am responsible for them, and must live up to my 
agreement if I am to have any self-respect or respect 
of the community." 

Without another word Mrs. Jones fled to the sit- 



Drew in the Great Lottery 177 

ting-room and sank down in a chair, applying her 
smelling salts vigorously while the little group which 
had followed her, looked on in silence until she had 
recovered sufficiently to speak. 

"Oh, why will you persist in being such a fool, 
Amos?" she exclaimed, tapping the floor nervously 
with her foot. "Why do you allow these people to 
be thrust upon you like this? There must be some 
way out, some loophole of escape from this dread- 
ful situation." 

"No, mother, there is no honorable way out of 
the situation you object to. I won these people the 
same as any other prize I might have drawn. I knew 
what the prizes were when I bought my tickets," 
he said seriously, looking tenderly into the brown 
eyes which smiled back at him confidingly through 
their tears, "so I cannot complain of fraud. I took 
a chance which might have given me the whole six. 
So, come mother, speak a kind word to Miss Apple- 
ton here and to the child, and show them to a room ; 
then we can discuss this matter privately," he con- 
tinued, annoyed that Miss Appleton should have 
cause to weep at his mother's reception of her. 

Whenever Amos assumed that tone of authority, 
which reminded Mrs. Jones forcibly of his father, 
she had learned by experience it was best to obey, 
so she conducted the new arrivals to a room for the 
night. 



1 78 What Amos Jones 

Amos paced the floor back and forth, trying to 
think things out clearly while waiting for his mother 
to return and discuss the matter with him. 

After seeing the baby put to bed, in the arms of 
the lonely girl, Mrs. Jones returned, as the door 
closed upon Mrs. Quinn, who promised to come 
back the next day and care for the child. 

"Well, my son," said Mrs. Jones seating herself 
and again resorting to her smelling salts as a tonic to 
her nerves, "this is a very serious matter and a great 
responsibility for a young man to assume. The man- 
agers must be appealed to, and should be willing to 
release you from the care of at least one of these so- 
called prizes. Prizes, indeed!" she exclaimed an- 
grily. "Burdens, is a more appropriate word, I 
think. Such a thing should never have been al- 
lowed, and who in the world would suppose there 
were people foolish enough to be willing to assume 
these burdens simply for the sake of having a monu- 
ment erected to their memory after they are dead. 
People might be excused for doing such an absurd 
thing if they benefited by it during their life-time, 
but to have to wait until death for all the glory is 
simply idiotic. You must have been crazy, Amos, 
to have taken such a chance simply for a monument, 
when there is money enough in the bank for ten 
monuments. Whatever possessed you to do such a 
thing?'* 



Drew in the Great Lottery 1 79 

"Well, mother, you need not worry about what 
caused me to take a chance in the lottery, I took 
it and this is the result. And I'm going to play fair, 
too," he continued decidedly. "If I gambled with 
Fate, I must show her I am game anyhow, no mat- 
ter what the throw is." 

"Mercy, my son, what language you use! * 
"Well, it's appropriate in this case, if not elegant.'* 
"But whatever possessed you to take a chance in 
such an absurd lottery, I can't for the life of me see. 
You, of all the men in the world, to have a woman 
and a child thrust upon your care. You, the most 
bashful man in town, who couldn't be coaxed to even 
dance with a pretty girl, much less to kiss her. And 
as for touching a baby, well, I would have said you 
would face a gatling gun with less fear. What 
pranks Fate plays sometimes. I declare, my dear, 
if it were not so serious a matter, I should consider 
it one of the greatest jokes I ever heard of," and 
Mrs. Jones laughed hysterically. 

Receiving no reply to her remarks, she continued 
speaking her mind. 

"I suppose the whole town will flock here to- 
morrow to congratulate you on your prizes, and me, 
on my prospective daughter-in-law. For no doubt, 
if you had examined your coupons you would have 
found a marriage license attached to the one belong- 



180 What Amos Jones 

ing to the girl, or the managers who were so gen- 
erous in thrusting these people upon you, will call 
and present you with one, and praise you for being 
a fool.*' 

"You can't blame them for what has occurred, 
mother," exclaimed Amos in their defence. "The 
lottery was perfectly fair and square; all the facts 
and conditions were stated clearly. No one was 
obliged to take a chance unless he wished to. And 
if I have drawn more than I bargained for, I shall 
take my medicine like a man, and say nothing about 
it." 

"Well, my son, sometimes monuments are pretty 
costly things, aren't they?" asked Mrs. Jones sar- 
castically. "Especially when the care of a woman 
and a child go with them. Here, you have these 
two people practically thrown at you with no choice 
in the matter at all." 

"I did have a choice. I hoped I'd win Miss 
Appleton, and I have, so I'm satisfied, for I have 
won the prize I wanted. You may as well know 
the truth now, mother. When I first saw the sweet 
brown eyes of that little girl, so frightened and shy, 
I forgot everything else connected with the lottery. 
And I'd willingly take the care and support of the 
whole six if I had to, in order to get her, for I love 
her, mother dear," whispered Amos, putting his arms 



Drew in the Great Lottery 181 

about his mother and hiding his blushing face on 
her breast as he spoke. 

"Well, my dear boy," said Mrs. Jones kissing 
him tenderly, at the same time sighing deeply; "if, 
as you say, you love this girl and are determined to 
marry her, a year or two at a finishing school will 
give her polish and you time to think the matter 
over. You are of age and your own master, so 
there is no one to oppose you legally. But you 
better wait and think the matter over and see how 
she develops first ; for it is a great risk to run, my 
son, marrying a girl out of your own class and one, 
too, of no family. 

Mrs. Jones did not quite dare to use the word, 
'"pauper," before Amos, for deep down in her heart 
she was afraid of arousing his ill-will. 

"In spite of her humble origin," she continued,. "I 
can see traces of refinement and beauty so she may 
turn out all right and do you credit, but why burden 
yourself with the child? Surely, if you inquire, you 
will find someone who took a chance in that absurd 
lottery hoping to win him. There must be someone 
who would be very glad to take him off your hands." 

"That may be true, but don't you understand, 
mother, I assumed the care and responsibility of 
the life of whichever one of the prizes I drew, and 
as Fate has seen fit to give me two at one throw I 



182 What Amos Jones 

must accept them both. No, you cannot swerve me 
from doing what I believe to be my duty," replied 
Amos firmly. 

"Well, my poor boy," cried Mrs. Jones, wiping 
the tears of vexation from her eyes, "marry the girl 
if you wish to, but why assume the care of the child? 
Why assume that burden also?" 

"Because I drew these two people, and we must 
all keep together. And when I'm married, the 
child won't be in the way any more than if I had 
married a widow with a child, or she had married 
me a widower with one. So there it stands mother, 
and there is no use to argue further." 

"Very well, my son, as I said before, you are 
your own master and can do as you please. And 
if you will not listen to reason but persist in carrying 
out your quixotic ideas and burden yourself with the 
care of both, I have nothing further to say, and as 
the hour is now late I will bid you good night." 

Kissing her, Amos escorted her to the foot of the 
stairs, and as she turned to mount them she ex- 
claimed : 

"Do I understand, my dear, that a monument goes 
with each prize? If that be the case, then you must 
be entitled to two." 

"Well, now, by cracky, so I am," cried Amos, 
looking the picture of despair, and his shoulders 



Drew in the Great Lottery 183 

dropped as though they felt the combined weight 
of both monuments weighing heavily upon them. 

"What will you do about it?" inquired Mrs. 
Jones. 

"I don't know, mother, I shall have to think the 
matter over. Anyhow, I'll see the managers the first 
thing in the morning. I'll have a smoke before I 
go to bed and try and think out what can be done. 
Gee whiz, two monuments, I never thought of that," 
said Amos, as he returned and began pacing the 
floor of the sitting-room, much more concerned at 
the responsibility of the two monuments than he was 
over that of the two prizes now sleeping soundly in 
the room above. 

Amos spent another restless night, trying to solve 
a way out of the peculiar situation he found himself 
in. He well knew his life would be made miserable 
by the many jokes at his expense, if he was to be 
distinguished during his life as the only man on 
record who could be sure of two monuments erected 
to his memory at his death, an honor few great men 
have. He resolved therefore, that if there was no 
way of getting rid of them, he would move far 
away, to another country if need be, rather than to 
go through life with those two monuments hanging 
like mill-stones about his neck and be obliged to 
suffer the ridicule which was bound to follow. 



184 What Amos Jones 

He tossed and turned the whole night through, 
and just as the first streaks of dawn came into the 
room, and he was about to give up in despair, a way 
out of the difficulty was brought to his weary brain 
and he sank into a refreshing slumber. 

The possibility of any one person winning more 
than one prize and thereby being entitled to two 
monuments, was a contingency not provided for or 
thought of by the managers, who were now as much 
puzzled over the situation which had arisen, as Amos 
had been. So they welcomed any solution offered 
when he called upon them early the next day. 

It required but a short discussion between them 
to decide as to which one of two propositions they 
would accept. Whether to take the combined 
amount of the two monuments and give it towards a 
home for crippled children, or to erect a drinking 
fountain in the public square. This latter was ac- 
cepted by all as the best solution. 

There had been much good-natured gossip and 
speculation throughout the town, as to what disposi- 
tion Amos would make of the extra monument he 
was entitled to, so when it became known to the 
public that his two monuments were to be converted 
into a drinking fountain, he was congratulated by 
all for the attitude he had taken in the matter. And 
in public opinion, he was a greater hero in turning 



Drer» in the Great Lottery 185 

the honors he had won into a public benefit, than 
he would have been had he claimed the reward he 
was entitled to and both monuments been erected to 
his memory after his death. 

A year later in the early summer, and on the day 
Amos and the little brown-eyed maid were married, 
the fountain was turned over to the public, amid 
much enthusiasm by the crowds of people who had 
come from far and near to celebrate the great event. 

As the band played the "Star Spangled Banner" 
'mid cheers and waving of handkerchiefs, the water 
burst forth from the mouths of the four lions forming 
the base of the fountain, and upon which stood a 
little child with outstretched arms, reaching for the 
cup that a young girl, delicately poised, held just 
beyond its grasp. 

The strong resemblance the two figures bore to 
the woman and child which Amos drew as prizes, 
will always cause the fountain to be pointed out as 
a loving tribute to them, and it will also serve as a 
lasting monument to his memory as well. 



THE WIDOW HE LOST 



The Widow He Lost 

The lengthening shadows, cast by the tall and 
stately columns still standing among the ruins of 
ancient Rome, gave warning of the flight of time as 
they stretched far over the sandy soil, marking 
weird and black highways not safe to follow. 

John Blackstone, seated at the base of one of 
these huge columns, was so lost in thoughts of their 
grandeur and beauty that he paid no heed to the 
warning. They fascinated him; for, although 
scarred and broken, to one who had eyes to see 
back of mere outline, they represented the strong 
lithe limbs of the mighty race who had conceived 
them, and whose simplicity and grace of architecture 
no newer race has ever surpassed. And the gar- 
lands, which twined about these columns in graceful 
festoons near their top, seemed typical of the grace 
and beauty of the women of that day. 

At last, arousing from his day-dreams, he got 
up and wandered on to explore further among the 
excavations, for he had been sent to Rome by a 
London paper to see what startling secrets of these 
ancient people had been unearthed, and which he 



190 The Widow He Lost 

could fling wide to an eager public, making himself 
famous and the paper envied by its rivals for this 
great coup. 

Heedless of the present while absorbed in 
thoughts of the past, he pushed on down into the 
newer excavations not yet open to the public, and 
suddenly found himself facing an entrance boarded 
up and bearing the sign 

NO ADMITTANCE 
UNDER PENALTY OF THE LAW. 

Being a true Englishman, he disregarded the 
warning of the law, and with a blow from his strong 
right arm broke one of the boards from its fasten- 
ing; then inserting his hand, he pushed back the 
crude bolt and opened the door, while the blood 
and nerve of his ancestors, which had caused them 
to roam the world over in search of adventure, now 
stirred in his veins. 

All Was blackness before him, but blessing the 
inventor of the electric pocket-light which he now 
brought forth, he entered, looking like some thief 
with a dark-lantern prowling about in the darkness. 
As he proceeded, the way, twisting and turning, be- 
came a veritable catacomb, with its unexpected 
chambers and passageways leading off in all direc- 
tions. 



The Widow He Lost 191 

He stopped often to admire and examine the 
objects of art scattered about. The foot of a 
Roman maid, evidently a dancer, judging from its 
graceful poise, was so attractive that he laid it aside 
reluctantly, but carefully indicated the place in his 
note-book so he could find it on his return and add it 
to his own private collection. 

"By Jove! This must be the entrance to some 
palace," he exclaimed, rising to his feet after stumb- 
ling against a flight of marble steps leading up to a 
carved door supported on either side by huge pillars, 
which were richly decorated. 

The door swung back heavily and Blackstone 
waited a moment to cast his light around, looking 
for a possible flight of steps leading down to some 
room beneath. "This floor seems as smooth and 
safe as any in England could be, that is, as far as I 
can see with this light," he said to himself as he 
walked about, examining the space of tiling which 
came within the circle of his light. Satisfied that 
the floor was safe at least, he turned his attention 
to the walls and discovered that the room was round 
in shape but with a flat ceiling supported by fluted 
columns of pure white marble, each decorated with 
a wreath of laurel leaves a few feet from the top. 

The walls were of white agate, so beautifully 
polished that they shone with a milky lustre through 



192 The Widow He Lost 

which the dark lines were seen as are the veins in a 
woman's white skin. 

At equal distance from each other a niche was 
cut within the walls; each of these held some rare 
object of Roman art. A tall vase, simple in design 
and beautiful of outline, stood in one. Another held 
a broken lyre the strings of which, though made of 
stone and mute, seemed real enough to vibrate and 
produce sound. In a third niche stood a tall torch 
with life-like flame and at its base lay an open book, 
which, Blackstone argued to himself, must mean the 
book of knowledge. 

"By Jove! that's great. I'd like to have that 
myself," he exclaimed, looking at it with longing 
eyes and running his hands over it lovingly. "That 
thing alone, would make the fame of any sculptor, 
and here it is hidden away under the earth with no 
trade-mark on it anywhere to tell who the beggar 
was whose skillful hand wrought this image or whose 
brain conceived it. It's a great shame those ancient 
Romans were so bally well pleased with themselves, 
that they never gave the rest of the world a thought, 
or they'd have fixed things so other nations, who 
came after them, wouldn't have such a hard time 
digging out which belongs to which, and who's who, 
and so on. These Romans must have been taught 
a modesty we English do not know or appreciate, 



The Widow He Lost 193 

for I can't see why the chap who made this couldn t 
have put his mark on it somewhere. I suppose 
though the admiration of his own people was enough 
for him, and he didn't care a hang for the praise of 
any other, which he probably deemed insignificant 
by comparison. Still, old man, I'd like to shake 
hands with you and compliment you on your work, 
I can at least take off my hat and bow in homage 
to you," said Blackstone bowing low and with rever- 
ence as if in the presence of the great. 

"And, old chap, in the land where I come from, 
my opinion on art is thought to be very good. I 
often write criticisms on art for the papers, my boy, 
and, by Jove! I've even dared to criticise things the 
British Museum has spent thousands of pounds to 
procure, I have really ; so you can know by that, of 
what weight my opinion is, and therefore appreciate 
it more. Well, I can't spend all my time standing 
here before the light of knowledge, no matter how 
fascinating it is. I must explore this beautiful room 
further and see if I can find anything small enough 
to carry away. 

"There, now, I was right. This room was meant 
for a king, for here's the old fellow's throne," he 
exclaimed aloud as, walking on, the circle of light 
revealed a huge chair mounted on a raised dais ap- 
proached by two broad circular steps of white stone. 



194 The Widow He Lost 

The chair was massive in size and majestic in its 
simplicity of design. Its curved arms ended in lion's 
heads, while its legs were fashioned as claws. Deco- 
rating the broad and rounded back was a simple 
wreath of laurel leaves with ribbon bow untied, in- 
dicating it belonged to the brow of a victor. 

The room, back of this throne-chair, curved into 
a deep recess, and all around this was a wide bench 
of the same stone, over which, in a broad low niche, 
stood a tall slender pitcher, a water jug and a drink- 
ing cup sparkling with jewels. 

"Well, by Jove, this must be the council chamber 
where the old king retired in order to recline while 
finishing a speech too long for the chair. I suppose 
when he got tired of sitting up straight he just re- 
posed here on this bench and talked on, that is, when 
some important question arose which compelled him 
and his cabinet to remain in council all night. A 
king has the right to make himself comfortable I 
suppose under all circumstances, so this bench must 
have been covered with rich and costly cushions, or, 
by Gad! he might as well have stuck to his chair. 
I say, old chap, perhaps you'll not object if a humble 
traveller dares seat himself in your kingly chair, for 
my legs ache and one knee is a trifle stiff at times from 
an old wound; so I'll sit awhile and rest, for you 
are not the only one who has been to war and is 



The Widow He Lost 195 

scarred. While I'm not entitled to wear a laurel 
wreathe like you, I have a bullet wound in my right 
leg I'm very proud of; so, even without your per- 
mission, old man, I'll sit here and dream of what it 
must be like to be a ruler such as you," and Black- 
stone sat down and, stretching out his legs, made 
himself as comfortable as was possible in a stone 
chair. 

A moment later, or so it seemed, he was startled 
by the sound of a bugle and a blaze of light which 
came with such suddenness it almost blinded him. 
He felt he must be dreaming, and rubbed his eyes 
again to be sure they were not closed and the sight 
which met them was real; for through the doorway 
came a group of people who walked to the tune of 
life and lute. 

While still too dazed to move or speak, Black- 
stone was rudely seized and bound hand and foot 
by the stalwart guards who walked before and made 
way for the Queen, who now stood calmly looking 
on, surrounded by her frightened handmaidens. 

Securely bound, Blackstone was led by the 
guards to the Queen, who had seated herself in the 
very chair he had left. She and her handmaidens 
gazed at him as though he were some strange speci- 
men of man they had never seen before. 

In the confusion of being seized, Blackstone had 



196 The Widow He Lost 

failed to note that these people spoke the same lan- 
guage as himself, and he trembled with fear at his 
fate should he fail to make himself understood. 
The close proximity of the sharp spears, and the 
cold look glittering in the eyes of the Queen, made 
him quake in his shoes as he tried vainly to bow 
with all due respect while tightly held in the grasp 
of the guards. 

"From what strange planet didst thou drop, sir, 
and how dared thou seat thyself upon my throne?" 
exclaimed the Queen, haughtily. 

To his great joy, Blackstone realized the Queen 
was addressing him in his own tongue though with 
a strange arrangement of speech, and a brilliant idea 
flashed through his brain. He resolved to use it, 
together with all the wit he had inherited from an 
Irish mother, in order to save his head from the 
spears held so dangerously close that he dared not 
move for fear of being thrust through the neck. 

"If it please Your Gracious Majesty to listen to 
my tale, I will explain, that, being a king in my own 
country, the sight of your throne made my heart 
glad, and, being somewhat weary with my long jour- 
ney, I seated myself without the formality of an- 
nouncement, for there seemed to be no one about at 
the time. 

"I pray you, sir, give further speech about thy 



The Widow He Lost 197 

kingdom that I may judge whether thy words be 
true or not, for it seemeth a poor country thou hast 
to rule over, to judge by the raiment thou wearest," 
replied the Queen, glancing at him, disdainfully. 

"Well, by Jove, I fancy I don't look much like a 
king, to be sure,*' said Blackstone to himself, wish- 
ing he had at least his high hat with him to impress 
these people with his kingly dignity. 

"If it please Your Gracious Majesty, to permit me 
to be unbound, I will then relate my tale of adven- 
ture and present credentials of my standing at home. 
My cramped position confuses my brain so that I 
cannot speak with my usual fluency. This is no lie," 
mentally added Blackstone to himself, "for it's 
deucedly hard to think up a fairy tale to save your 
head when a spear is thrust so close to your brain 
that you are all a-tremble. I pray, Your Gracious 
Majesty, allow me to be seated, if only on the floor 
at your feet, for I am very weary," he continued 
aloud. 

"Unbind him, guards, and place cushions on the 
floor near me that I may listen to the tale this strange 
creature has to relate." And to Blackstone's utter 
amazement the Queen lifted a jewelled lorgnette 
and stared at him with all the hauteur of a British 
matron. 

"Well, I'll be -," said Blackstone to himself* 



198 The Widow He Lost 

hotly, "A strange creature, indeed, by Jove, I won- 
der, do we Englishmen seem so to other people? 
Anyway, my clothes were perfectly correct accord- 
ing to Bond street when I left home.*' 

Blackstone, now being free, stooped to turn his 
trousers up at the bottom, they having been disturbed 
by the thongs which had bound his ankles, then bow- 
ing low before the Queen he turned and seated him- 
self as gracefully as was possible for one not accus- 
tomed to sitting on the floor. 

"By Jove ! I never wished before that my people 
had been in trade," he muttered, as he tried to bal- 
ance himself securely on the pile of cushions which 
wobbled about threateningly with his efforts. "But, 
if my grandfather and father had been tailors, I 
would, by right of inheritance, be able now to seat 
myself on these with ease." 

"Pray, proceed with thy strange tale, thou queer 
specimen of man," cried the Queen with tip-tilted 
nose, and growing impatient. 

"By George ! this is too much, even for a queen," 
said Blackstone to himself, the blood mounting to 
his face, "I'll forget who she is in a minute, if I am 
not careful, and say something she won't like. A 
queer specimen, ami? Maybe I look so just now, 
but it's all because I'm not good enough to be seated 
on a level with Her Royal Highness. Any man 



The Widow He Lost 199 

would look a fool seated on the floor, I don*t care if 
it*s Gladstone himself," he growled. Then glancing 
at the spears still held dangerously near, he resolved 
to keep his temper in check no matter how tried. 

"I pray, Your Highness, before I begin my tale, 
that you will grant me some refreshment, for my 
throat is too dry to finish when once my story is 
begun ; so 'tis best to be refreshed at the beginning." 

"What a brazen creature thou art, to ask drink 
of a queen! Dost thou not know who I am, and 
that many have been put to death for much less?" 
she demanded angrily. 

"I pray Your Gracious Majesty will overlook any 
seeming rudeness in my request. I ask you to re- 
member that I am a king in my own country, also 
that when royalty visits royalty there is always feast- 
ing. It is true I am at present seated at your feet 
like a slave, but I assure Your Royal Highness, 
that ere my tale is done, you will be pleased to have 
me deign to cross my feet beneath thy table," replied 
Blackstone, adopting a manner as haughty as her 
own. "But, by Gad! I've got to get a drink out of 
her, if I have to stir up the whole Court to do it," 
he said to himself, "for my brain must be fired with 
imagination in order to save my head. If it please 
Your Gracious Majesty, I will await the arrival of 
liquid refreshment," and he waved his hand loftily 



200 The Widow He Lost 

as he spoke, then leaned back as far on his cushions 
as he dared, and waited. 

The Queen despatched a slave with a whispered 
command, then turning languidly in his direction, 
said, "King thou mayest be, but I must have proof 
before I can accept thee as such. Refreshment thou 
shalt have, for I greatly desire to hear thy tale of 
adventure, being somewhat bored, it will amuse me." 

"By Jove! but that's a cool one. Just wait until 
I get through, my beauty, then you'll crown me with 
laurel leaves and seat me on your throne, or else I'm 
no son of an Irish mother and English father with 
ancestry a mile long," commented Blackstone to 
himself. 

The slave returned bearing a tray piled high with 
luscious fruits which was placed before him. A 
golden goblet was handed to him by another slave 
who first filled it from a bottle bearing a familiar 
label. 

"My word, real champagne!" cried Blackstone 
in amazement, his eyes sparkling with delight, then 
raising the goblet to the Queen, he drained it and 
motioning haughtily to the slave to refill it, he drank 
again. 

"That's real and no mistake," he murmured, 
smacking his lips, "I never before imagined that the 
ancient Romans knew of champagne. How the 



The Widow He Lost 201 

dickens did this ever get here? According to his- 
tory, it was made long after these people were sup- 
posed to be fossils, but history seems to have its dates 
mixed somehow, for here am I, an Englishman, in 
the nineteenth century, drinking real champagne with 
people who were supposed to be dead long before it 
was invented. Well, I am not going to quarrel with 
history but enjoy myself. As her Royal Highness 
will not deign to drink with me, she and her Court 
can go hang until I finish this lonely banquet of mine. 
These grapes are far finer than any I have ever 
tasted before, and even if I do seem a tramp eating 
cold victuals here, at the feet of royalty, I am going 
to enjoy it as long as I can." 

And Blackstone sipped leisurely and ate his fill of 
the luscious fruits, while the members of the Court 
whispered and gossiped audibly about him. When 
the Queen moved impatiently, annoyed at his slow- 
ness, the guards thrust their spears closer to him, 
which caused cold chills to run up and down his 
spine. 

"How like unto one starved, doth this man eat,'* 
said the Queen aloud to the nearest handmaiden. 
'Tis true, Your Majesty, he seemeth famished." 

"He must have naught of such as these to eat, in 
that strange country from whence he came," con- 
tinued the Queen, scornfully. 



202 * The Widow He Lost 

Unmindful of these remarks, Blackstone drained 
the last glass, then waved the slave away with the 
tray. He then rose, and bowing low before the 
Queen, said, "I thank Your Gracious Majesty for 
your kind hospitality, which I will proceed to reward 
by telling you of myself, my people and my king- 
dom.'* 

Bowing low again, he then seated himself on the 
cushions, while all the Court gathered near in order 
to hear, even the Queen leaned forward eagerly. 

"One moment, Your Majesty, I ask your kind 
permission to prepare for myself what, in my coun- 
try, is quite necessary after eating in order to aid 
digestion." 

Blackstone pulled his brierwood pipe from his 
pocket, filled it from his tobacco pouch, lit it and 
took a puff. 

At this all hands were raised in protest. Loud 
cries of "Seize him!" were heard. 

"Well, what's all this bally row about?" asked 
Blackstone in surprise, gazing around at the Court 
and smoking calmly. 

The handmaidens coughed and choked, the Queen 
covered her face with her hands, and said in a husky 
voice, " 'Tis the smoke from thy queer stomach 
remedy we do protest against. We have a more 
delightful one than that, which, if thou must use one, 



The Widow He Lost 203 

I insist upon thy taking it in place of thine, which is 
of so vile a smell I cannot endure it. 

"By Gad! What tastes some people have," ex- 
claimed Blackstone to himself, "this tobacco cost 
half a pound and is what the King smokes at home, 
and here these people turn their noses up as high as 
though I were smoking vile weeds. All right, old 
girl, I'll try yours and carry it away as a souvenir 
of this night. Maybe, I'll sell it to the Museum if 
ever in a tight place. By Jove, but she's a beauty," 
he cried with delight, as he examined the pipe which 
the page placed on a tray before him on the floor. 
Taking the long stem in his mouth he took a few 
puffs, then closed his eyes in ecstacy. "By George, 
that's great! Now for my dreams." 

And Blackstone leaned back as comfortably as 
was possible on the low cushions, took several leis- 
urely puffs on the pipe, enjoying to the utmost his 
position the centre of all eyes, especially those of 
the handmaidens who now gazed at him shyly, in- 
vitingly. 

"I am about to relate a strange tale, fair Queen, 
and ask Your Gracious Majesty to pardon me if I 
consume much time in telling it. Many, many 
leagues away, too far for the falcon to go and return 
in one day, is a beautiful island of the sea. To the 
north the snow flies, to the south the sun shines 



204 The Widow He Lost 

brightly most of the year. Both parts are good for 
your health at different seasons, providing you do not 
have to live in either one of them all the year around. 
In the centre, or between the north and the south, is 
a country designed by the gods, called England, 
and in that country a city is built for the favorites 
of the gods. The city is named London, and is 
filled with strong, brave men. and maidens with hair 
of gold, cheeks like the wild-rose, eyes like bits of 
blue sky, and skin of milky whiteness. By Gad! 
That's good enough to remember or to put in a 
book," interjected Blackstone to himself, proud of 
his eloquence, "hereafter, when I have an article to 
write, I'll do it over a glass of champagne," he 
mused while the Queen and the handmaidens cast 
angry glances at him for daring to make mention 
of other maidens so fair. 

"Now, in this town, called London, are buildings 
of wondrous size and castles whose towers reach 
far upward to the sky. Among these many castles, 
built by the people for their lords, is one called the 
British Museum, and in this castle I live, for I am 
the King, and it is my home. See, here is a picture 
of it and my credentials, as well." 

And Blackstone took from his pocket a letter 
with a large seal, and having a picture of the 
Museum at the head of the page, the seal and sig- 



The Widow He Lost 205 

nature at the bottom, so that it looked imposing 
enough for a king. It was, in reality, a letter from 
one of the heads of the Museum, written in reply 
to a criticism he had dared to make on the recent 
purchase of a tapestry he had claimed was not 
genuine. 

Blackstone was careful to hold the letter far 
enough away to show only the pictured castle and 
seal, for fear they might read as well as speak his 
language. Then returning it to his pocket, he con- 
tinued : 

"You see, Your Royal Highness, I am some- 
what of an adventurer in spite of the attractions of 
the mighty castle, in which I live, and I often long 
to roam the world over; so, when my head begins 
to ache beneath my crown, for the British Crown 
is very heavy, and the wearing of it is one of the 
penalties one must suffer for being King, which I 
fancy is not far from being the truth either," he 
muttered under his breath. "So, as I say, when 
my crown becomes too heavy and my mantle of 
velvet and ermine becomes too hot for comfort and 
when my stomach revolts from the sight of grouse, 
pate de foies gras, truffles and plum pudding, I put 
my crown, glistening with its diamonds and rubies, 
carefully away in a glass case and place guards with 
drawn swords around it; my velvet and ermine robe 



206 The Widow He Lost 

I lay in a cedar chest and mount a guard on top, 
ready to charge anyone who enters; I then order 
the store-room closed, and take the keys of my wine 
vaults, which I have here," and Blackstone pulled 
from his pocket a bunch of keys on a ring and held 
them up to view, and passed them around for in- 
spection. 

"Then I carefully lock the front door with this," 
he continued, holding up a large brass door key 
belonging to the door of his room at the hotel. This 
was also passed around for examination. "And, 
being tired of my own people, I start off alone, 
wearing garments like these, so plain you would 
never believe me to be a King, now would you?" 
he asked, looking first at the Queen, then at the 
others of her Court all listening intently. 

"That we would not, sir," replied the Queen, 
"for to our eyes thou bearest no kingly marks." 

"Still doubts my story of royal birth, does she? 
Well, by Jove, that's a corker. I wonder what 
usually marks a King? Ours at home seem much 
the same as ordinary folks if robbed of fine linen 
and pomp of ceremony. Come to think of it, I've 
got a birth-mark on my upper left arm large enough 
to convince her I belong to something out of the 
ordinary. Then aloud he said, "Your Gracious 
Majesty should not be so hasty in your judgment 



The Widow He Lost 207 

as to the kingly marks I bear, for in my country 
'tis the custom to keep all such marks out of sight, 
but I will show you a mark of kingly blood, if you 
will allow me to remove my outer garments and 
expose my arm." 

The Queen bowed her royal head and Blackstone 
proceeded to unfasten his coat, then removed it and 
placed it beside him on the floor. When he cast 
his cuffs upon the coat and began to turn up his 
shirt sleeve, the handmaidens shrieked and covered 
their faces with their hands, while the guards 
pressed closer. 

Blackstone calmly ignoring their actions, pro- 
ceeded to work his shirt sleeve up to the shoulder, 
where, standing forth clearly from the white skin, 
was a brown mark the size of a pigeon's egg. 

"There, Your Royal Highness, is my royal seal 
placed there at my birth. It is my one mark of 
distinction which proclaims me King when off duty 
and not wearing a crown. So you see, Your Ma- 
jesty, my marks of birth are as great as those of any 
King you have ever seen, are they not?" he asked. 

The Queen and her handmaidens had first peeped 
from behind their hands, then growing bolder gazed 
fearlessly forth admiring the white skin showing 
strong muscles beneath. 

The Queen raised her lorgnette to further inspect 
the royal sign as she replied. 



208 The Widow He Lost 

"In truth, sir, if marks like these be signs of 
royal birth in your country, then have I seen none 
greater on the backs of kings, for my sovereign, 
while a King of much renown had only a mark the 
size of a drop of blood on his neck. To us, these 
spots are for kissing and denote no rank. With us, 
our kings are of stately bearing, having scars and 
marks of battle, showing bravery and deeds of dar- 
ing." And the Queen sank back in her chair, clos- 
ing her lorgnette and tip-tilting her nose in the air, 
as she finished speaking. 

Stung by her scorn, Blackstone pulled down his 
sleeve and fastened his cuff, put on his coat then 
puffed on his pipe for a moment in silence. 

"We also have marks on our bodies denoting 
deeds of valour, Your Majesty," replied Black- 
stone quietly, glad of the bullet wound in his right 
leg, "but, in our country it is not considered proper, 
even for kings to expose their limbs in the presence 
of ladies." 

"Limbs! my lord," exclaimed the Queen in sur- 
prise, addressing him by the title she thought suf- 
ficient out of respect to the rank indicated by the 
royal marks so far shown, "What strange members 
of the body are they, and to what use are they put? 
We here have no such things, nor have we ever 
heard aught of them before." 



The Widow He Lost 209 

"I beg Your Majesty's pardon for thinking you 
such a prude as to be shocked by calling things by 
their proper names. I meant legs when I spoke of 
limbs." 

"Ha, ha!" laughed the Queen gayly, together 
with her handmaidens. "Legs are a common sight 
with us, and being useful we find nothing shocking 
about exposing them, as you can see by my gar- 
ments, as well as those of my handmaidens." 

At this the handmaidens stepped forward and 
Blackstone noticed for the first time that their outer 
garments were gracefully draped, high at the right 
side, disclosing, with every movement, the leg from 
the hip downward covered only by a gauzy under- 
skirt through which the skin shone like polished 
ivory. 

"In truth, my lord, we think our legs a pleasant 
sight," exclaimed the Queen thrusting out her foot, 
bare, save for the sandal upon it. 

"By Jove! you're right. I say, I never have 
seen a prettier one on any stage in London. My 
word! what a howling sensation you would create 
there," cried Blackstone, enthusiastically. 

At this, the Queen blushed deeply and the hand- 
maidens giggled audibly. 

"Thou speakest too freely to a Queen, my lord. 
Knowest thou not thy place?" she demanded 
haughtily, with eyes sparkling. 



210 The Widow He Lost 

"My place is here, at your feet, most Gracious 
Queen," replied Blackstone, rising and bowing low 
before her. "Knowing myself to be a King, I had 
no thought to offend you, and I assure you it is 
something of a compliment to your beauty to make 
a sensation in a city like London, where the people 
are so accustomed to strange sights that an angel 
from heaven might pass through the crowds un- 
noticed." 

"If 'tis so, what thou sayest, then I thank thee, 
my lord, for thy pretty speech," said the Queen, 
mollified. "But, I pray thee, continue thy tale of 
adventure for I am wearied and need to be 
amused," and the Queen yawned as she spoke. 

"My word! does she take me for a fool? A 
Court jester? to amuse the crowd. Well, so be 
it," and Blackstone smiled musingly as he reclined 
on the silken cushions, puffing lazily on his pipe. 

"Well, Your Royal Highness, I will proceed 
with my tale. I got as far as locking the castle 
gate, I believe. I then set out alone and afoot 
with my knap-sack on my back containing a flitch 
of bacon, eggs of a bird called the hen, a delicacy 
you know not of, nor of the dish called bacon and 
eggs, which, when eaten out of doors, is fit for the 
gods. The aroma of the frying fat is as delicate 
perfume to the nostrils of all Englishmen. Noth- 



The Widow He Lost 211 

ing, no, nothing, can compare with it as an appe- 
tizing flavor," cried Blackstone, feeling hungry for 
a slice at the mere mention of it. 

"Hast thou not some of this delicacy about 
thee?" asked the Queen anxiously, "that I and my 
handmaidens may enjoy it also and refresh our 
palates with a new dish; for the egg of the plover 
has grown stale to my taste and the meat of the 
pea-fowl has lost its flavor. Nothing tempts my 
jaded appetitie," declared the Queen, wearily. 

"Just fancy, now, my having a slice or two of 
bacon concealed about me. "Oh, ye gods, what 
a joke!" 

And Blackstone chuckled softly to himself at 
the thought of presenting the Queen with a few 
slices of cold bacon. 

"I regret to say, Your Royal Highness, that 
that delicacy is a thing of the past with me. I 
have not tasted it since crossing the channel, which 
I did in a boat that rocked back and forth, up 
and down so violently, I have had no thought for 
bacon since, till now." 

"Then the waters thou speakest of crossing, 
must be like unto the camels of the desert, which 
rock one about so greatly that they make one ill 
at first. Thou shouldst have crossed and recrossed 
in that rocking boat till thou hadst conquered that 



212 The Widow He Lost 

feeling, if thou wert brave and a King, as thou 
claimst to be," exclaimed the Queen with scorn. 

"By Jove, a camel of the sea, that's a corking 
fine name for the old English channel. I must 
get that to the Times in an article and claim credit 
for it," thought Blackstone to himself. 

"In our country, Your Highness, it is not a sign 
of kingly rank or virtue to endure the sickness of 
the sea. We lie down, suffer and groan as do our 
subjects. Then only, are we the same as all 
others, under the dominion of one mightier than 
we, the King of the Sea." 

"What weaklings must thy kings be, to acknowl- 
edge and greater than they," cried the Queen shrug- 
ging her shoulders disdainfully as did the hand- 
maidens, too. 

"I ask Your Royal Highness not to judge of 
the weakness of kings until you have tackled the 
camel of the sea yourself in a vile little English 
boat," replied Blackstone, calmly. 

"Hast thou not slaves enough to row it with 
smoothness, or enough of them to fill the hull to 
give it steadiness?" she querried. 

"Ye gods! Imagine a boat being rowed with 
smoothness across the channel. What a joke!" 
chuckled Blackstone to himself. "Those old tubs 
would wabble about worse than ever, I fancy. No, 



The Widow He Lost 213 

Your Royal Highness, we have no slaves in my 
domain I could use to row my ships across the 
sea. In the first place they would refuse to do 
it, unless I called out my Army. My cannon and 
guns are all beautifully polished and clean at pres- 
ent and I do not want them soiled with powder 
and smoke." 

"Then thou shouldst order them beheaded or 
thrust through with spears, for daring to refuse to 
obey the King's command," cried the Queen amazed. 

"Your Royal Highness, the only axe we have 
in my country that could do the deed, is locked 
up in the British Museum with a card explaining 
why its blade is now too dull to do the work," 
replied Blackstone, enjoying the conversation 
hugely. 

"But thou sayest thou livest in that castle, can'st 
thou not order the axe put in shape to do the work, 
or else use thy spears?" asked the Queen surprised 
at the lack of authority shown by English kings. 

"The spears we have are likewise dull and out 
of date and are also locked up in a glass case. No, 
there is no one in authority who could take them 
out and have them sharpened, Your Gracious Ma- 
jesty, for when I left, I gave the Army a holiday 
and leave of absence in order to keep their uni- 
forms fresh for a royal welcome when I return to 
my kingdom." 



214 The Widow He Lost 

"A kingdom unguarded, my lord? Truly thine 
must be of small measurement or as barren as a 
dried date palm of the desert, for if there be no 
eyes cast with greed upon it thy kingdom can'st 
not be of great richness." 

"But my possessions are of great value, Your 
Royal Highness, and at the present time there are 
several millions of eyes looking on, envious of them 
and of my position as ruler. Some of those eyes 
are in blond and bearded faces, whose speech is 
thick and blurred. Other eyes are in the faces of 
those of the olive skin whose silvery tongues hide 
the hatred in their hearts, while their black eyes 
smile softly concealing the cunning beneath. Other 
eyes there are, which are tip-tilted in a manner 
strange but most successful for concealing the work- 
ing of the mind back of them. So you see, Your 
Majesty, my possessions are very great to be of so 
much value to so many." 

"Why then leave such a treasure unguarded 
while you are so far away? Thou mayest find 
thy castle gone, thy subjects scattered, if no Army 
guard them in your absence. 'Tis a foolish thing 
to do, and not one to expect of a King." 

"Well, you see, Your Royal Highness, that 
might be true, but no one outside of my kingdom 
knows that my Army is taking a vacation. I made 



The Widow He Lost 215 

each soldier take solemn oath he would not leave 
the country during my absence or spread the news 
abroad. Then, too, my reputation as a fighter and 
as a ruler of the sea is established, so no one will 
dare attack my possessions while my Navy is at 
work and my ships patrol the sea on all sides, for 
these sentinels of the sea are so fierce, so danger- 
ous, none dare venture within firing distance of 
them. I have no fear while my Navy is on duty 
and my ships guard my front door. So I feel the 
British Museum is quite safe, Your Majesty, any- 
how I'm losing no sleep over the way things are 
going on at home." 

And Blackstone settled back among the cushions, 
puffing away on the pipe, as though he had not a 
care in the world. A king indeed, enjoying his 
holiday. 

'Tis well for thee, my lord, that thou hast a 
Navy and can'st leave them on guard for then thou 
can'st tarry here awhile with a contented mind. 
Thou dost amuse me greatly with thy tales of thy 
strange country and its crude customs; so I desire 
that thou tarry here to entertain me for a time, 
as all the interesting men of my country are dead, 
and yet not long enough dead to return and keep 
me company, so my lord, I am quite ennuied with 
only my handmaidens here and my guard. But 



216 The Widow He Lost 

come, the hour is late and we must adjourn to pre- 
pare ourselves for the feast of the evening. My 
guards will escort thee to thy apartments, my lord," 
she exclaimed, and as Blackstone arose and bpwed 
low before her, she extended her hand which he 
kissed gallantly. 

"Your Royal Highness, it will give me great 
pleasure to remain with you, and, so far as is pos- 
sible, I shall endeavor to take the place of the 
great men you mourn. Though a difficult position 
for any man to fill, I feel a king of England should 
be equal to it, so it will be my pleasure to remain 
as long as I amuse thee, leaving quickly when I 
bore thee," he said, unconsciously lapsing into her 
quaint manner of speech. Then bowing low again, 
he stepped aside. 

As the Queen and her twelve hand-maidens 
passed by and out of the audience chamber they 
glanced at him coquettishly, bashfully, wistfully or 
boldly according to their different natures. 

II 

The guards stepped forth silently, surrounding 
him on all sides and conducted him to a door directly 
opposite the one the Queen and her suite had passed 
through. 



The Widow He Lost 21 7 

"By Jove! I feel more like a criminal going to 
his execution than a man invited to feast with a 
Queen. My word! what an adventure," he said to 
himself as the guards left him at the door of his 
apartment, with dark-skinned attendants to serve 
him. 

The room he entered was large and round. The 
floor of polished onyx was covered with priceless 
rugs. Niches within the walls of white onyx, con- 
tained objects rare and costly. Lights burned 
softly from jewelled lamps suspended by golden 
chains or reposed on low tables. Cushions of rich 
color and texture were piled on the floor and on 
a long low divan. In the centre of the room, a 
fountain played softly and its water dropped with 
a soothing sound into the marble basin, sending out 
a rare perfume. 

The attendant slave, in scant garments, led him 
to an adjoining room, in which a sunken pool, with 
broad steps leading down to it, looked inviting to 
Blackstone, who, too astonished to utter a word, 
had remained silent. 

"Ye gods! old Windsor Castle never owned a 
bath like this," he exclaimed as he sniffed the scented 
water. "Truly the ancients can teach us a thing 
or two about the bath ; and by Jove, come to think 
of it, it must be quite four and twenty hours since 



218 The Widow He Lost 

my tub, which is hardly decent in my country. 
Well, my man," he said, turning to the slave who 
stood silently by, "if you will kindly run away or 
turn your back, I will disrobe and take a plunge," 
and Blackstone removed his coat and handed it to 
the slave. 

Bowing low he took it, saying, softly, "My 
lord, I am, by the Queen's command your body 
servant. 'Tis my duty to assist at thy toilet," and 
again bowing low, he received Blackstone's vest. 

"By Jove! I say, old man, you're a royal nurse 
maid then, supposed to rub my back and comb my 
hair," replied Blackstone laughing, gayly. "It's 
a long time since I've needed those attentions and 
somewhat of a nuisance they were too, for I re- 
member clearly the soap they allowed to get into 
my eyes. But kings must be martyrs to some cause, 
so I must submit to the royal nurse maid." 

And Blackstone smiled to himself as he disrobed, 
then walking to the steps of the pool he stood there 
a moment enjoying the luxury of it all. "My 
word, but this is great," he exclaimed, as he 
plunged into the perfumed water which he found 
to be of a refreshing temperature. 

When he came up dripping from the bath the 
slave boy covered him with a soft crash garment, 
patting and rubbing him dry, then deftly annointed 
him with fragrant oils. 



The Widoiv He Lost 219 

"Ye gods, I feel as though I was being prepared 
for a sacrifice, a lamb being led to the slaughter," 
chuckled Blackstone, softly, as the slave polished 
and perfumed his body. 

'Tis not seemly, in my country, for a man to 
make use of so much perfume," he said to the 
slave; "that is only for the ladies." 

"In this country, my lord, there is no such dis- 
tinction, the bodies of each must be a delight to 
the nostrils. The Queen delights in pleasant odors, 
so all in her presence must use them," said the slave 
as he poured a few drops of attar of roses in the 
palm of his hand, then rubbed it over the face and 
neck of Blackstone. 

"If you keep this up much longer, old man, I 
shall grow faint, I feel more like a debutante now 
than a descent Englishman," cried Blackstone, step- 
ping back from the slave. "Here, give me yonder 
pipe and let me take a whiff from it, that I may 
remember I am a man again." 

The slave, bowing, hastened to obey, and Black- 
stone sank down on the cushioned step and puffed 
on the pipe vigorously for a few moments. 

"By Gad, I wonder if I am asleep or awake," 
he mused as he sat there looking into the water. "I 
feel as though I had rubbed the lamp of Aladdin. 
Well, I suppose I might as well continue the joke 



220 The Widow He Lost 

or whatever it is. The royal birth mark evidently 
had the desired effect or else the poor Queen is 
mighty lonesome, for certainly no real king could 
complain of this treatment. I shall entertain the 
fair lady and her court as far as possible, and as 
she is a widow, should I find favor in her sight, it 
might not be such a bad thing to become a real king.*' 

He was aroused from his dreaming by a tap on 
his arm, and the slave, bowing low, said, "Most 
gracious lord, the time is growing short before the 
banquet. We must make haste. The Queen has 
expressed a wish that thou clothe thyself in the gar- 
ments worn by the men of her country, as being 
more comfortable for one having travelled far." 

"My word! but your Queen is a thoughtful 
woman. I was longing for fresh linen after my 
bath, and sorry my luggage was at the hotel,'* he 
said, as he laid down his pipe and got up from his 
seat. 

"Ye gods!" he cried in amazement, as he held 
up the scanty garment the slave handed him. "You 
don't expect me to appear before the Queen and her 
Court in that bally thing, do you?" and he looked 
at the slave in astonishment. "Why, in my country, 
no decent man would appear outside of his bedroom 
with this!" and he held up the short-skirted garment 
with scorn. "An Englishman would hardly expose 



The Widow He Lost 221 

his legs in such fashion, to his valet, much less to a 
queen. If I were a Scotchman, now, this would 
bring no blushes to my cheeks but pride to my heart 
because the costume of skirted men dated so far 
back. No, my slave boy, nurse, maid and attendant, 
take thyself in haste to the Queen's chamber and 
inform Her Royal Highness it is not seemly in my 
country for men to appear thus before a queen, and 
ask permission to allow me to don the trousers of 
my own countrymen. So, haste thee away while I 
examine these other garments here," and Blackstone 
picked up a long white garment of soft silky wool, 
the slave had dropped on the cushions as he fled 
away on his errand. 

He examined it minutely, rubbing the soft texture 
between his fingers. "Well, the old King must have' 
had a sensitive skin, for this thing is soft enough for 
the skin of a new-born babe. I suppose these be- 
longed to the old chap," he continued, as he tried 
to find the proper way of putting the garment on. 
44 Ye gods! this is my first experience with cast-off 
clothing and I never thought I would come to this, 
still, if these were the King's they have been kept 
fresh and clean. By Gad, here's the maker's label; 
it must have been an extra suit," said Blackstone, 
examining it yard by yard. 

"Well, there certainly is enough in this to cover 



222 The Widow He Lost 

me up so my trousers won't show and mar the effect," 
he said, as he pulled the long garment around him. 
"If I only had some good strong pins now, I would 
feel decidly more safe and comfortable. Where is 
that coat of mine? I must keep all of my valuables 
on my person," said Blackstone, looking about. 

He searched through his coat and vest, transfer- 
ring the contents of these to the pockets of his 
trousers, stuffing them to bursting. Finding the large 
door key to be in the way, he hung it about his neck 
on his soft silk tie, which happened to be bright red, 
and so lent a bit of color to his costume. 

The slave returned, bowed low and said, "Her 
Gracious Majesty, while astonished that my lord 
would think she would request him to appear in a 
costume to offend his modesty, granted his request 
to don his own trousers." 

"Well, I suppose if the Queen does not mind, I 
shouldn't, but I'd spend a mighty unpleasant even- 
ing trying to get used to my bare legs and keeping 
them out of sight. So, my man, as I intend to enjoy 
myself and wish to be comfortable in mind, we will 
go forth in this costume. As soon as you fasten 
these sandals for me and adjust the folds of this 
winding sheet properly, I shall be ready," said 
Blackstone, gayly, feeling as though dressed for 
some private theatricals rather than to dine with a 
queen. 



The Widow He Lost 223 

The slave refused to allow him to put on anything 
else of his own besides his trousers, excepting his 
undershirt which Blackstone insisted upon wearing. 

"It's positively indecent, old man, to appear be- 
fore a Queen without a shirt of some kind, for this 
bathrobe or whatever the bally thing is, might come 
apart, don't you know, and how deucedly awkward 
that would be for me," he said decidedly, to the 
slave's protests. 

Following the guard which awaited him at the 
door of the outer room, Blackstone was ushered into 
the presence of the Queen. 

He tried hard not to allow the sensation of being 
in bathrobe and slippers to affect his bearing, and so 
strove to approach the Queen in a manner befitting 
a King. 

He found it difficult to walk with his accustomed 
ease because of the long robe twisting around his 
legs, compelling him to stop and untangle himself 
from its embrace. 

To prevent him from sprawling outright, ignomini- 
ously, in the sight of the twelve pairs of eyes of her 
handmaidens, the Queen graciously stretched forth 
her jewelled hand to him as he drew near; while 
Blackstone, feeling the distance from the doorway 
to the throne to have been miles in length, from the 
sense of fatigue he experienced in his efforts to ap- 



224 The Widow He Lost 

pear natural when he believed he looked "a silly 
ass," bent low and kissed the jewelled hand grate- 
fully. 

"Thou dost seem weary, my lord. Didst not thy 
bath refresh thee?" asked the Queen, as she motioned 
to him to take the seat placed beside her. 

"I beg Your Gracious Majesty to pardon my 
awkwardness in wearing the garments of your coun- 
try ; not being accustomed to them, 'tis hard to walk 
with ease in what seems woman's clothes, and which 
twine about one's legs in strange fashion," replied 
Blackstone, bending down again to unwind his robe 
which had twisted itself so tightly around his legs 
that he had found it impossible to seat himself as the 
Queen bade him. 

"The fault is entirely thine own, my lord. Be 
cause of thy false shame against the sight of thine 
own legs; thou hast retained a portion of thy gar- 
ments, and the two cloths, being as strange to each 
other as the customs of each country, seem at war, 
and seek to overthrow thee. What are legs to us 
any more than our arms or faces? Do not my sol- 
diers and my servants expose their legs in nature's 
covering only? Truly the English must have strange 
ideas or else strange legs to make of them a mystery. 
But, come, my lord, we will now eat and enjoy our- 
selves. Try and forget thou art an Englishman and 



The Widow He Lost 225 

be with us, a Roman while under my roof," said 
the Queen kindly. 

Clapping her hands with a peculiar sound, the 
curtains at one side of the room were softly pulled 
apart, revealing a scene fit for any stage. In a 
softly lighted recess stood a long low table, on which 
were several large epergnes holding luscious fruits. 
These were flanked on either side by flagons of wine. 
There was a confusion of gold and silver dishes, or 
so it seemed to Blackstone's eyes which were ac- 
customed to the formal course dinner of England; 
but the whole effect was sumptuous to say the least. 

At the head of the table and along both sides 
were long low seats covered with priceless rugs. 
Some were of the skins of animals, rare and beauti- 
ful, especially the skin of a leopard at the Queen's 
seat, which was wonderfully rich in its markings. 

Blackstone watched the Queen and her hand- 
maidens bestow themselves, gracefully on the 
divan or seats, and attempted to transfer his limbs 
from the floor to the seat with the same grace, but 
was obliged to untangle his garments before he 
could recline at all, then found that to him the 
position was not only awkward but decidedly un- 
comfortable as well. 

"Thou hast a frown on thy face, my lord. Pray 
tell me what discomforts thee?" asked the Queen 
anxiously, as the fruits were being served. 



226 The Widow He Lost 

"If Your Royal Highness will pardon my plain 
speaking, I will admit that not being accustomed to 
this position my wounded leg is cramped with pain." 

"Amon," cried the Queen to a slave at her elbow, 
"attend to thy lord. Massage thou the leg which 
causeth him pain." Then turning to Blackstone, 
who was now trying to eat a pomegranate with un- 
concern while the little black slave was rubbing the 
cramped leg the best he could through the thick 
Scotch tweed, the queen added, "My lord, 'tis not 
so much to thy position thou owest thy suffering, but 
to thy own foolish custom of binding thy body from 
thy hips down, taking away thy freedom of move- 
ment Tell me, my lord, how do thy people ar- 
range themselves at thy tables when they partake of 
food?" 

"Your Royal Highness, in my country we do not 
make of eating a pleasure or luxury to be enjoyed 
in this manner, but make of it a business. Seated 
stiffly upright in high-backed chairs, we eat seriously, 
as a duty to be gone through quickly. We never 
recline when eating, after the age of twelve months, 
unless we are either invalids or weak-minded." 

At this, Blackstone almost lost his balance try- 
ing to drink a glass of wine while reclining with his 
head propped up by his arm, as did the Queen and 
her handmaidens so gracefully, making a pleasing 



The Widow He Lost 227 

picture of indolence, and causing him to marvel at 
the dainty movements and ways as strange as their 
food. 

"If Your Royal Highness will permit," he ex- 
claimed a few minutes later, sitting upright, "I will 
raise myself to my accustomed position; my hand 
and arm are numb, and by Jove ! I feel such a silly 
ass eating like a convalescent, anyhow, I want my 
two legs under the table like an English king," cried 
Blackstone rudely, exasperated at trying to eat as 
did the Romans. "It's too deucedly uncomfortable 
anyhow," he grumbled to himself as he turned about 
and planted his feet as firmly on the floor as his 
sandals would allow. 

The Queen and her handmaidens looked shocked 
at his actions and seemed fearful at the change in 
his voice, and the guards let the ends of their spears 
fall to the floor with a warning sound. 

But the temper of the British Lion was aroused, 
as it is apt to be if disturbed at its food, and Black- 
stone felt he didn't care a hang any more for the 
customs of ancient Rome. His feet were both 
alseep as well as his arm, so asserting his authority 
as all good Britons do in the presence of their house- 
hold, he called to the little slave gruffly: "Amon, 
come hither, attend thy master. Rub quickly my 
hands and feet. I have been twisted up into knots 



228 The Widow He Lost 

like a contortionist long enough," then he muttered 
under his breath, "But the food is good and the 
wine rare, so I mean to enjoy it." 

The Queen and her handmaidens ate in silence, 
waiting for their strange guest to speak. 

"I will, with the permission of Your Royal High- 
ness, continue to eat after the manner of my own 
people as being more comfortable for me. I will 
then wait until the meal is finished to recline and 
enjoy my pipe at my ease," he said, his good humor 
restored with his self respect on resuming his natural 
position for eating. Then, too, the wine was begin- 
ning to flow through his veins as was the blood 
through his benumbed hands and feet. 

"I will grant thee permission to resume thy stiff- 
and awkward posture though thou didst dare to as- 
sume it before the permission was given. Verily, 
my lord, thou art rash, or else thou knowest little of 
the anger of a woman, and that woman a queen," 
she said with a firm voice as she drew herself up 
haughtily and continued, "many a man has been 
beheaded for less, have they not?" she asked her 
handmaidens. 

"They have, indeed, Your Gracious Majesty," 
they replied in chorus, while the guards again 
thumped the floor with the ends of their spears, 
warningly. 



The Widow He Lost 229 

"Your Royal Highness," calmly replied Black- 
stone, who continued to eat with unconcern not 
heeding the warning from the guards, "While 'tis 
true I have no queen to share my throne, still do I 
know the heart of woman well. And whether it beats 
under a velvet gown or one of print 'tis the same. 
They all kiss the hand that holds the rod." 

"My lord, 'tis not so in my country," replied the 
queen quickly. "No man would dare to raise his 
hand against a Roman maid, for she is as strong 
and fearless as he and can carry a spear and shield 
with the ease of any man. We women here, fight 
our enemy shoulder to shoulder with our men, and 
no man dare lay hand on us under penalty of death. 
Is that not true, my maids?" she asked with eyes 
now sparkling as the jewels which flashed on her 
forehead and blazed on her arms. 

"Thou sayest truly, Your Gracious Majesty, no 
maid of Rome would kiss a hand that held within 
it a rod," replied the maids with scorn. 

"Well, 'tis true, my knowledge of Roman 
women is limited, none having crossed my path be- 
fore," said Blackstone, "and, as present company 
is always made the exception in other countries, I 
will make it so here, and believing there are no 
other Roman maidens in existence to-day on the 
face of the globe, I will drink to the health of these 



230 The Widow He Lost 

fair women of Rome who dare to defy their lords 
of creation. "And standing erect, Blackstone 
raised the crystal goblet to his lips and bowing low 
to the Queen and her handmaidens, said, "I drink 
to the bravery of the women of Rome, under whose 
fine white skin flows the blood of warriors bold, but 
whose soft languorous eyes belie their cold exterior 
and show the warm heart beneath. To you, the 
fair women, I drink!" Then raising his glass high 
as he finished speaking, Blackstone dashed it to the 
floor, where it was shattered into bits on the tiling. 



Ill 

At this the handmaidens shrieked; the guards 
came forward quickly and surrounded him, scowling 
darkly, and waiting only for a word from the Queen 
to do away with this wild barbarian. 

The Queen, with outward composure but wildly 
beating heart, seeing by his smiling eyes that he had 
not suddenly lost his mind, as she had at first sup- 
posed, thus addressed him : "Thou dost affright me, 
my lord, with thy strange actions. To make a 
pretty speech with thy lips, then before we have 
time to reply to thee, thou dost seem suddenly pos- 
sessed with anger. Pray, thee, what aileth thee? 



The Widow He Lost 231 

Was not the wine of the best or wert thou afraid it 
contained a drug? No harm can befall thee, my 
lord, while thou art under my roof," and she 
smiled sweetly into his eyes as she finished speaking, 
and waved the guards away, for Blackstone now 
knelt at her feet. 

Raising her jewelled hand to his lips, he said 
gently, "Your Royal Highness, I most humbly beg 
your pardon if my actions have caused you fear. 
It is only a pretty custom of my country, that after 
a toast is drunk the glass be shattered that no lips 
touch it again, and is considered a compliment to 
the one to whom we drink. So I broke the glass 
according to our custom without thinking you might 
marvel at my actions, and I again ask your pardon." 

Again he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, 
then, seating himself at the table, continued, "Your 
Gracious Majesty need have no fear of thy treat- 
ment of me, for thou art all. I could desire as a 
hostess. Thy wine is of excellent vintage and of 
great age to judge by the flavor," and Blackstone 
held the crystal goblet to the light, through which 
the wine sparkled as clear amber. 

"Yes, my lord, 'tis indeed of great age and very 
rare. It was presented to the King, my sovereign, 
by a great Egyptian prince, who claimed it had 
been made by the strange gods of his country, out 



232 The Widow He Lost 

of the juice of the pomegranate, whose trees grew 
in a secret place known only to them." 

"Ye gods," exclaimed Blackstone, under his 
breath, sipping the precious wine slowly, **a bottle 
of this sold to the British Museum would make me 
both famous and rich. I suppose it must come bot- 
tled, for a wine so rare surely would not come in 
casks. I mean to have a bottle to take home with 
me, even if I have to steal it." 

Then, turning to the queen, he said, "Your 
Royal Highness, I appreciate the honor you have 
paid me in serving me with wine so rare, and ask 
that you grant me the pleasure of looking at the 
bottle which contained this nectar of the gods; for 
I would like to feast my eyes on such an antique." 

"With pleasure will I grant thee thy request, my 
lord," replied the Queen graciously, "Amon, go 
thou and fetch the bottle which the wine of the 
pomegranate was emptied from, and bring it hither 
to thy lord," she said to the slave boy, who swiftly 
went to do her bidding. 

Returning, and bowing low before Blackstone, 
he presented him with a queer gourd-shaped bottle 
made of skin, hardened by some peculiar process, 
and so blackened by age that it looked like ebony. 
It was covered with strange marks and hieroglyphics 
which Blackstone could not make out. He exam- 



The Widow He Lost 233 

ined it carefully for a date, and when he finally 
discovered the figures, B. C. 600 he almost shouted 
with glee. 

"My word, just fancy! This was made prob- 
ably in the time of old Belshazzar. Perhaps this 
same vintage served at that famous feast. Well, 
here's to his health ! Old man, thou hast good taste, 
even if thou were considered an old roue, and I 
drink to your memory," said Blackstone, raising his 
glass. 

"Your Gracious Majesty," he continued, "I have 
a request to make which I hope you will feel in 
your heart to grant. 'Tis one so great I tremble 
for fear you will refuse me." 

"I can not think of anything I own too great 
to lay at thy feet, my lord," she replied as she 
looked at him shyly, smiling as she spoke. 

"Ye gods!" he gasped, "I believe the widow has 
fallen in love with me. If so, it's a dangerous posi- 
tion for a fellow to be in; for a queen's command 
must be obeyed or else I'll lose my head. Well, 'tis 
easier to lose my heart than my head, only I much 
prefer to have a choice as to where I bestow my 
heart, and in this case, I would have none. Well, 
here's the request and talking about it will keep her 
at a distance for a while. Your Majesty is most 
gracious," he said, bowing to the Queen, "and over; 



234 The Widow He Lost 

whelms me with her willingness to grant me a favor, 
still 'tis so great I hesitate to make my request 
known." 

"I can not think of anything I possess which 
thou couldst not have, my lord, unless it be my 
jewels," and the Queen touched the jewels gleaming 
on forehead, neck and wrist as she spoke; then, 
stretching out her jewelled hands toward him, she 
continued eagerly, "and even these be yours if thou 
wert poor and had need to dispose of them for a 
price, but, being a king, thou must have jewels of 
thy own so have no present need of these." 

"My word! Just fancy now, the Queen ready to 
give me all her jewels to pawn. What a collection 
they would make for the British Museum and what 
a pretty price they'd pay me," he said to himself, 
then to the Queen, "Your Royal Highness has a 
most generous heart and I would not take advantage 
of it. As you say, I have jewels at home, more 
than I can use. Ropes and ropes of pearls are 
locked away in glass cases, as are my crown and 
my jewelled sword. These are all kept in strong 
cases and guarded night and day by my soldiers, 
especially on free days when the crowd is so great." 

"Free days, my lord? What dost thou mean?" 
cried the Queen horrified, "surely thou dost not ask 
a price of thy friends who enter thy house?" 



The Widow He Lost 235 

Tis the custom, Your Royal Htghness, in all 
of the best houses in England as well as the British 
Museum, to levy a tax on all who enter and eat at 
our table for the up-keep of our servants." 

"Verily, thy people know not true hospitality to 
have such a strange custom. Thou canst not enter- 
tain thy friend then, if he or she be poor?" 

"No, you are quite right, Your Royal Highness, 
the poor are not often entertained, at least not the 
second time, though they sometimes get in by mis- 
take ; but, if known to be poor by the servants, they 
are served in so haughty a manner that they are 
glad to escape a repetition of their scornful glances," 
chuckled Blackstone, smiling. 

"My lord, what thou tellest me seemeth most 
strange," replied the Queen, with a puzzled expres- 
sion on her face, "Why dost thy people allow thy 
servants to gaze on their guests so scornfully? Here 
we would behead such a servant immediately. A 
guest is our friend when under our roof and as such 
is protected by us from all harm while there.' 

" 'Tis as you say, Your Royal Highness, a 
strange and barbarous custom and one to marvel at, 
as well as a queer form of hospitality, to invite 
one's friends to sup and sleep under your roof then 
charge a price for it. Still, it is necessary in order 
that the servants* hire will not be so heavy and to 



236 The Widow He Lost 

help pay for^the wear and tear to one's belongings. 
I know that is the way it is at the British Museum 
for it costs me much just to keep my rare and beau- 
tiful objects carefully guarded by my soldiers, and 
that reminds me, Your Royal Highness, I have not 
yet made my request known to you. It is that you 
bestow upon rae this wine bottle," and Blackstone 
hugged it tightly to his breast as he spoke. 

The Queen and her handmaidens laughed heart- 
ily. "Truly, thou jokest, my lord, or else thou art 
overcome with bashfulness in the presence of my 
handmaidens, to make of me such a strange request 
as to desire an empty wine bottle when I told 
thee that any of my possessions wert thine for the 
asking. Truly, thou mockest me," she replied, a 
tear of vexation and disappointment glistening in 
her eye. 

"I assure you, Your Gracious Majesty, that I 
was never more in earnest in my life," said Black- 
stone seriously, "for to us, who value antiques, this 
is priceless and will bring me a pretty penny." 

"What! my lord!" cried the Queen, amazed at 
his words, holding up her hands in horror, "thou, 
a King, barter an old wine bottle a Queen has cast 
upon the trash heap? Truly, thou amazest me at 
thy strange customs," said she, as she tossed her 
head and tipstilted her nose in scorn. 



The Widow He Lost 237 

"The custom may seem strange to you, Your 
Royal Highness, but 'tis done in my country by 
Kings, Queens, and all of royal birth. 'Tis quite 
common for them to dispose of rare objects of art 
to the highest bidder in order to replenish their 
chests with gold; and often the objects are of such 
great value that the people of my country all con- 
tribute to the price that the article may remain with 
me in the British Museum ; then my countrymen are 
allowed to come and gaze upon this priceless treas- 
ure and see what they were taxed for. And my 
chests are further replenished by charging a small 
fee at the door on certain days for the more ex- 
clusive who care to gaze on my treasures when my 
palace is not so crowded." 

"Truly, thy people are very meek and long suf- 
fering, my lord, to submit to such taxation. With 
us, each hath as many servants as his purse will 
allow; we would scorn to ask a guest to open his 
purse when he enters our house to sup with us. A 
Roman gives what he hath with cheerful heart, 
though it be but the milk of the goat and a few 
dates which he offers, and these he serves himself 
as paying greater honor to his guest in thus serving 
him. While 'tis true, my lord, my people are often 
heavily taxed and suffer much when the harvest is 
poor ; still we do not tax the guest of our household, 



238 The Widow He Lost 

nor does any savage tribe in all our domains. Thy 
people must indeed be meek and lowly of spirit not 
to rebel," and the queen looked with disdain at 
Blackstone for being king over such weaklings. 

"My word! Just fancy, now, the English being 
called meek and lowly," and Blackstone leaned 
back and laughed heartily at the idea. 

"By Gad ! that's great. I must keep that in mind 
and write an article for the Times, giving the opin- 
ion of a Queen of ancient Rome on the manners and 
customs of good old England. I fancy, it will 
make a hit when it comes out, so I'll put a jolly 
good price on that article, too," he continued, 
smiling. 

"Thou seemest amused, my lord," said the 
Queen, surprised, for she had expected an outburst 
of temper to follow her remarks. 

"I am, greatly amused, Your Royal Highness, 
especially when I think of my fine army and mag- 
nificent navy. They, meek and lowly? My sturdy 
sons of old England, brought up on good roast beef 
and ale, weaklings? Why, Your Gracious Majes- 
ty, if I but speak the word, my army and navy 
would rise up in their might and sweep every coun- 
try right into the sea, and then throw all these ruins 
of ancient Rome in after them, so there would not 
be a sign of any other nation left. My army and 



The Widow He Lost 239 

navy are like two fierce bulldogs, chafing constantly 
against their leash, which I hold tightly in my hands 
at all times; for they are often excited by the roar 
of the great Russian bear; the screaching of the 
American eagle gets on their nerves at times; while 
the watchful eye of Germany drives them to frenzy. 
It takes a strong and firm hand to hold these bull- 
dogs of mine when their fighting blood is up; and 
some day, Your Royal Highness, I'm going to turn 
them loose and watch the fun." And Blackstone 
laughed again, as though enjoying the fight when 
his bulldogs were turned loose. 

As he finished speaking the handmaidens cried 
out in alarm and clasped each other for protection, 
drawing their flimsy garments about them as though 
the fighting bulldogs were now at their feet. 

Even the Queen grew pale, and the guards moved 
restlessly and rattled their spears against their 
shields. 

"Thou speaketh so fiercely, my lord, and so viv- 
idly dost the picture of thy blood-thirsty dogs appear 
before our eyes, that thou hast affrighted us so that 
we tremble before thee, thou great War Lord; as 
thou seeth, I am alone here with only this small 
guard to protect me and my handmaidens, so I be- 
seech thee, my lord, that when thou lettest thy war 
dogs loose onto the other nations, that thou wilt not 



240 The Widow He Lost 

take what is left of my country and throw it into 
the sea, too; but I pray thee, let these few ruins 
stand here to remind thee of the Queen who enter- 
tained thee under her roof. Wilt thou grant me 
this request?" she pleaded, coming close to him as if 
for protection, her blue eyes dark with fear. 

"Rest thy heart in peace, Your Royal Highness," 
replied Blackstone, taking in his the hand so con- 
fidingly laid on his knee. "You and your house- 
hold need have no fear when my war dogs are 
loosed; for no Englishman would make war with 
such a beautiful woman ; so have no fear, my Queen, 
my war dogs shall be torn to pieces before harm 
shall come to you. And should the other nations 
discover that Rome is not dead and desire to pos- 
sess thy country, remember that England got here 
first and I will turn my war dogs on them ; for they 
shall not rob me of thee." 

And Blackstone unconsciously placed his arm 
about the Queen as if to protect her from the armies 
of the world, who, as enemies of his, were trying to 
rob him of his new found possessions. 

"Thou art very good, my lord, to say that thy 
great army and navy are ready to protect me and 
my little handful of people, all that is now left of 
my country, and I thank thee heartily and am much 
comforted by thy words which ease my fears. But 



The Widow He Lost 241 

come, my lord," she exclaimed rising. "The even- 
ing hath been too serious. And 'tis time we gave 
thee entertainment as well as food. Come, we will 
go hither to another room and my handmaidens 

will dance for thee and express their joy at thy pres- 

»» 
ence. 

The handmaidens vanished as if by magic and 
the guards stepped forward to make way for the 
queen who now walked with her hand within Black- 
stone's arm. 

They made their way slowly through the throne 
room, their progress impeded by the folds of the long 
white garment wrapping itself tightly around Black- 
stone's feet, which caused him to swear softly un- 
der his breath as he stopped to unwind himself. 

The guards waited at a door leading off from the 
throne room, evidently the outer room of the Queen's 
private apartments to judge by the magnificence of 
the furnishings which were luxurious and costly 
enough for the queen of Sheba herself, the greatest 
connoisseur of rare and costly objects die world has 
ever known. 

"My word!" exclaimed Blackstone, "these must 
have cost the old King a pretty penny if my judg- 
ment of values is correct; for this room holds ob- 
jects so old and so rare that they seem to date back 
to the time of creation itself," he continued aloud, 



242 The Widow He Lost 

as he wandered about the room, examining the fur- 
nishings and musing on the possible value of the un- 
usual objects scattered about, while waiting for the 
Queen to join him, she having retired to an inner 
apartment. 

"By Jove ! it wouldn't surprise me, in the least, to 
discover that the wood of which this table is made 
came from the tree which bore the famous apple that 
Adam ate and which has given humanity acute in- 
digestion, accompanied by remorse, ever since," 
mused Blackstone, smiling as he examined again the 
rare wood of the table which held the pipe he 
smoked as he leaned back lazily among the cushions 
of the divan, while waiting for the Queen. 

The sound of the dripping water of the fountain 
in the centre of the room as it fell with a soft mur- 
mur into the marble basin, proved almost too much 
for him, and the delicious perfume it sent out was 
intoxicating to one not accustomed to the heavy 
odor. 

"By Gad!" he exclaimed drowsily a moment 
later, "that tinkling fountain over there sounds so 
much like the rain pattering on the eves at home, it 
will put me to sleep in a minute. I hope my lady 
will appear soon, or else she will find her lord fast 
asleep." 



The Widow He Lost 243 

At this moment the curtains of the inner door 
parted and the queen entered. 

Blackstone was roused from all thoughts of 
sleep by the vision of loveliness which met his eyes. 
"By George, but she's a stunner and no mistake," 
he murmured, as he dropped his pipe and went to 
meet her, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. 

The Queen met his ardent gaze as shyly as any 
girl and such she seemed, for she had discarded her 
queenly garments and now wore a simple robe of 
white transparent stuff, through which her skin shown 
as soft satin. On forehead, neck and wrist were 
ropes of pearls worth a king's ransom while on her 
ankles golden bands tinked softly as she walked. 

"Art thou pleased with my attire, my lord?" she 
asked, as naively as any ingenue. 

"Thou amazest me, with thy appearance, unto 
speechlessness, my Queen," exclaimed Blackstone 
in reply, mixing his manner of speech with hers, as 
he looked with unconcealed admiration into the blue 
eyes, now dark and langorous in the dim light of 
swaying lamps. "Thou seemest to have cast off 
years with thy Court attire, so 'tis hard to believe 
thou art a Queen and not a young damsel," he 
said, bowing low. 

"Pray then, my lord, forget for to-night that I 
am indeed a queen. Let me, like thee, forget for 
a time my crown which causeth me to grow 'weary 



244 The Widow He Lost 

and maketh me sad at heart to wear, now that my 
king is not here. So, I fain would be just a woman 
with thee, my lord; for I am indeed lonely, and 
thy presence cheers me. Come, sit thou here and 
forget, with me, the crowns we wear," she said, as 
she motioned him to a seat beside her on the divan, 
where, leaning back among the cushions, she made 
a most pleasing picture. 

"Thou sayest true, Your Royal Highness, for 
'tis tiresome business being seated on kingly chairs 
all one's life. Many a king envies the freedom of 
mind which goes with the cap worn by his most 
humble subject, and no doubt a queenly heart often 
aches as sadly as does the heart of her who wears a 
gown of print. Well, so goes the world. Our 
people look up to us, envious of our seeming good 
fortune, thinking none could be greater, while we, 
in turn, look down on them envious, at times, of 
their freedom. Yet, each of us no doubt would be 
bored to death, after a short time, could we ex- 
change places. Now, my plan is best," he con- 
tinued, as he puffed lazily away on his pipe, the 
Queen not objecting to his smoking as long as it 
pleased her lord. 

"And so my plan is best, my Queen," he re- 
peated, "I wear my crown and my ermine robe 
until I am bored almost to extinction. I then ar- 



The Widow He Lost 245 

range matters ship-shape, so that my kingdom runs 
itself in my absence, don my comfortable clothes 
and wander where I will, until I feel refreshed in 
both mind and body. I then return home again and 
my people welcome me royally with cannon and 
gun. I climb back into my kingly chair, glad to be 
at the head of things once more and to be where I 
can study the temper of my bulldogs and watch 
my neighbors closely when they come asking favors. 
All of which is exciting after one has been away 
and forgotten he is king until the sight of his crown 
seems as a new toy and it maketh his heart glad to 
rule again." 

"What thou sayest is true, my lord, and I have 
often longed to do the same," replied the Queen 
wearily, "but, being alone here, with no war dogs to 
guard my little handful of people, I must forever 
remain in charge, none knowing my lonely heart; 
for a queen must be brave before the people she 
ruleth and hide her heavy heart. But to thee, my 
lord, can I speak, for thou art kind and seemeth so 
like unto my King it maketh me sad to gaze upon 
thee," and she wiped away a tear as she spoke. 

"Poor little Queen, it must be lonesome for her 
with no one of her own rank here to talk to," said 
Blackstone, under his breath. Then, patting the 
jewelled hand soothingly, his heart stirred to pity at 



246 The Widow He Lost 

the sight of her tears, he continued as he drew her 
tenderly within the circle of his arm. "Thou art 
tired and weary, my Queen, being shut up with thy 
people so long alone. Thou needest a change of 
scene. Wouldst thou be willing to ride the camel 
of the sea with me, and go back to England when 
I go?" 

She clapped her hands together as does a child 
when pleased, and cried joyfully, "Oh, yes, my 
lord, gladly will I go with thee, I, my handmaidens 
and my guard." 

"Well, by Jove," said Blackstone, seriously to 
himself, "I say, I did not calculate on taking unto 
myself the whole population of ancient Rome when 
I decided to take their Queen. But it's too soon to 
come a cropper to my lady's hopes, so I won't say 
anything about that just now. It would be some- 
thing of a sensation, though, to return to London 
with all the inhabitants of my new possessions, and 
perhaps not be so bad after all, by gad." 

"Thou seemest sad, my lord, and not to rejoice 
that I go with thee. Art thou not pleased that I 
am not only willing to brave the discomforts of the 
camel of the sea for thee, but go gladly, to where 
the manners and customs of thy people are so strange 
to me?" she asked as she gazed into his eyes, 
troubled. 



The Widow He Lost 247 

Drawing her closer within his arm, Blackstone 
replied: "I'm more than pleased at thy willingness 
to accompany me back to my people, my Queen. It 
shows your trust and confidence in my protection, 
and I am much honored and flattered by thy accept- 
ance." And raising her hand to his lips, he kissed it 
reverently. 

At this moment, the soft tinkle of tambourines 
announced the arrival of the dancing girls and 
through the doorway danced the twelve hand- 
maidens in step to the music of tambourine accom- 
panied by the lute which Amon the little slave boy 
played. 

The dancers then seated themselves on the 
floor in a semi-circle, and the picture they made 
seemed so much a vision of one's imagination that 
Blackstone rubbed his eyes and pinched himself to 
dispel any idea of his being asleep and dreaming. 

The soft light of swaying lamps, the rich colors 
of the hangings on walls and at doorway, together 
with the varied hues of silken cushions, made a back- 
ground fit for any stage and one that caused the 
dancers to stand out in bold relief. 

"My word!" exclaimed Blackstone, as he set- 
tled back among the cushions of the divan, pre- 
pared to enjoy the entertainment offered for his 
benefit. 



248 The Widow He Lost 

"What a sensation they will create when I show 
them to a bored and dull London public at the 
end of the season. Just fancy, now, how the Lon- 
don chappies will stare when they feast their eyes 
on these living samples of Roman beauty, au naturel, 
and, by Gad, a season, as their manager, should 
pay me better than selling antiques to the museum." 
He mused on as he watched the girl, now dancing, 
the muscles and firm flesh of whose body, revealed 
by the very scant and gauzy drapery she wore, 
seemed alive with pure joy of movement as she 
danced and twirled about. 

"Brava! brava!" he cried, heartily, clapping his 
hands as the dancer finished. "That beats any- 
thing I have ever seen on any London stage. What 
a sensation my troupe of dancing girls will create 
there next season." 

"Thy dancing girls, my lord? What meanest 
thou?" asked the Queen, a jealous light in her eyes. 
"These are my handmaidens and as such belong 
to me to attend upon my wardrobe and wait upon 
me; so thou canst not have them to go about with 
thee." 

"Dost thou not remember, my Queen, that thou 
said that all thou hath was mine, even thy jewels," 
replied Blackstone, with a merry twinkle in his eye. 

"I well remember, my lord, but to me these are 



The Widow He Lost 249 

more valuable than jewels; for they know my ways 
and delight to wait upon me, so that I could not be 
without them near me at all times. Especially will 
I need their service in thy strange country, then too, 
my lord, they were given to me by my late sovereign, 
so that I cannot give them to thee." 

"Be not distressed my Queen, for if thy serving 
maids become my dancing girls, you can find ex- 
cellent maids in my country. And these will be of 
far more service to you because of their knowledge 
of the proper mode of dressing which prevails among 
the nobility there." 

"But, my lord, can I not apparel myself as 
befits my own taste?" cried the Queen, surprised. 
"Verily, if that be the custom in thy country, then 
thy queens are not gifted either with taste or judg- 
ment, if they fashion their garments as others dic- 
tate. In my country, no one dares suggest to the 
Queen the manner or cut of cloth for her costume, 
for here, the Queen's choice, no one questions." And 
she drew herself up and gazed at him imperiously. 

"Truly, there can be no question, Your Royal 
Highness, when one looks upon thee, but that thou 
knowest how to adorn thyself becomingly," he re- 
plied, bowing gallantly. "But, in my country, 
kings and queens are not always free to carry out 
their own wishes in regard to what they wear. Even 



250 The Widow He Lost 

they, like the rest of mankind, are slaves to Dame 
Fashion, and brave is he or she, who dares go 
against her decree of what should be worn." 

"Dame Fashion, my lord?" cried the Queen 
amazed, "who is she, that her judgment should be 
placed above that of kings and queens; is she 
some strange goddess whom thy people worship, as 
do we the goddess of Love? Tell me, my lord, 
who this dame is, and if she be in the flesh? I shall 
refuse to bend my knee to her, for no queen of Rome 
will ever acknowledge any woman greater than she." 
And her eyes flashed fire as she drew herself up 
haughtily. 

"Come, come, my Queen, do not take my words 
so seriously. We all must, in a measure, be guided 
by some one, even if we are rulers ourselves. In 
England, now, there are two goddesses before whom 
we all bow with great reverence, Dame Fashion and 
Custom. Even you, my Queen, pay respect to Cus- 
tom if no heed to Fashion, for you realize that the 
Custom in use by your people is greater than you. 
Is it not so?" 

" 'Tis true, my lord. I submit to Custom as thou 
sayest, but I like not that I should submit to the rule 
of that Dame Fashion thou knowest; so I and my 
handmaidens shall pay no heed to her dictates. And 
my lord, should she annoy me much, I will ride the 



The Widow He Lost 251 

camel of the sea again, and return to my own coun- 
try," she cried rebelliously. 

"Then thou dost not love me, my Queen," re- 
plied Blackstone, taking her hand and drawing her 
within the circle of his arms again in spite of the gaze 
of the handmaidens who danced merrily on. "Thou 
dost not love me then," he repeated softly, drawing 
her closer to him, "if you will let such a small mat- 
ter affect thee and cause thee to leave me. Thou 
must be brave and accept the customs and manners 
of the people of thy lord, no matter how strange 
they seem to thee. For what care thou? Art thou 
not my Queen, and canst thou not rule over me?" 
he asked, kissing her tenderly on the forehead. 

Smiling sweetly into his eyes, she raised her soft 
white arms and placed them about his neck, then 
shrieked with terror and clung to him with fear. For 
at that moment there was a roar as of thunder. The 
floor rocked as do the waves of the sea; the walls 
shook and trembled, and pandemonium reigned with 
the shrieking of the handmaidens, the hoarse cries 
of the guard and the crashing walls. 

Clasping the Queen tightly in his arms, Blackstone 
attempted to move but his long white robe wrapped 
itself about his feet and with the Queen in his arms, 
he fell forward; then all was darkness. 

About midnight of the day when Blackstone 



252 The Widow He Lost 

wandered down the long passage-way and seated 
himself in the kingly chair, all Rome was terrified 
by a violent earthquake, which sent the panic- 
stricken inhabitants screaming into the streets, to the 
churches and open market places to spend the night 
praying as they knelt amid falling stones while the 
earth rocked beneath them. 

At day break, after the swaying earth had again 
become firm, the more courageous ventured forth 
to learn the extent of the catastrophe and to give 
aid to the injured. 

It was found that the greatest damage done was 
in that part of the city where the ruins of ancient 
Rome were being excavated. The earthquake had 
wrecked most of the mighty columns which, like 
giants of the past, had remained standing for cen- 
turies, monuments to the memory of a splendid 
race. 

Later in the day a searching party started out 
from the hotel in response to repeated cables sent by 
the London Times, asking for news of Blackstone. 
Knowing it was his custom to prowl about among 
the ruins, the proprietor began to fear he had been 
killed, as he had not been seen about the hotel 
since the day before, so he sent out in haste for 
news of him. 

A visit to all the hospitals and the morgue con- 



The Widow He Lost 253 

vinced the searching party that the genial English- 
man had not been found. 

They hastened away to search among the exca- 
vations as it was reported he had been seen there late 
the day before. 

Working their way slowly through the debris 
piled up in the long passage-way, they came to the 
door of the room Blackstone had entered. Shouting 
and calling his name loudly they pushed their way 
into the room by the light of their lanterns. 

They found Blackstone lying at the foot of the 
stone steps leading to the throne chair, over which 
a large panel of the ceiling had lodged, forming a 
canopy over his head, and to this he owed his life. 

Unconscious and bleeding from a bad wound in 
his forehead, they lifted him tenderly and as they 
placed him on a stretcher he opened his eyes and 
murmured faintly, "save the Queen first," then lapsed 
into unconsciousness again. 

He was carried to the hospital where every at- 
tention was given him, by order of the Times, which 
had cabled to spare no expense. 

A fortnight later he was removed to the hotel, still 
weak and trembling, his hair snow white; and at 
times a dazed expression would come into his eyes 
at the memory of the Queen and her handmaidens. 

Months after, when back in old England, and 



254 The Widow He Lost 

while dining one night at the club, the words of the 
toast he gave when he drank to the brave women of 
Rome came vividly to his mind, and with a sigh of 
regret, he lifted his glass and again drank to their 
memory, and to that of the beautiful Queen he had 
lost there in the ruins of Ancient Rome. 



LETTERS FROM MR STOCKTON 



NOTE. 

If unfamiliar with the phenomena of spirit communica- 
tion, the reader is asked to imagine the difficulty one must 
have experienced in receiving and believing a telephone 
message transmitted through one of the first imperfect in- 
struments, and a wire without a hole in it, if he had never 
seen or heard or believed there was such a mode of com- 
munication. 

With this in mind please note the struggle of the spirit 
of Mr. Stockton to convince even the medium, Miss de 
Camp, of his identity and to overcome the doubts and fears 
that at first arose in her conscious mind. 

THE PUBLISHER. 



Letters From Mr. Stockton 

The following letters were received by me auto- 
matically on the dates given. 

Etta de Camp. 

March 25th, 1909. 
My dear Madam : 

I am Frank R> Stockton, I am ready to write 
through you. I have many stories I want written 
and am glad you can write them for me. I have 
one now, called "What Did I Do With My Wife?" 
the title is a good one, 1 will give you another later. 

Frank R> Stockton. 



March 26th, 1909. 
My dear Madam: 

I am here now. I will give you a story called 
**My Wireless Horse." It is very funny. I will 
have a new one for you to-morrow. 1 am so glad 
you allow me this medium through which to reach 
the public. I am indeed grateful to you for this 
privilege. 

Frank R. Stockton. 



258 Letters From Mr. Stockton 

April 25th, 1909. 
My dear Madam : 

If you will write an hour or two each morning you 
will get the best results; the greatest progress is made 
by having a fixed time for writing. Let nothing in- 
terfere, for we must \eep the connection close in 
order for me to get my thoughts through. You see 
how much easier it is now than it was at first. You 
will soon be able to take down longer stories, at first 
I am giving you very short ones, and later I will have 
a book I would like to have you bring out for me. 

Frank R. Stockton. 



May 5th, 1909. 
My dear Madam: 

I am sorry that you have had so much trouble 
with my stories. I know at first it will be almost im- 
possible to get anyone to believe I wrote them, but 
you will find someone who will, I am sure. 

We are trying to find the right person here who 
can send you the force you need and as soon as he 
is found we will bring him to you. 

The pain behind your ears will indicate that I 
am ready for work* then you must take the pencil 
and write. I am going now, so good-bye. 

Frank R> Stockton. 



Letters From Mr. Stockton 259 

May 9th 1909. 
My dear Madam: 

You are having a hard time I know trying to get 
anyone to believe you in regard to my stories, but 
in time they will, my dear madam, for I will write 
a story that will compel them to believe. 

Frank R. Stockton. 



July] 2th, 1909. 
My dear Madam: 

Keep right on; we will get some good stories yet. 
You can tell my sister for me that the veil which 
separates us is very thin. We can come and go 
among you easily. But I am anxious to go on to 
the next plane and my brain must be relieved of 
these stories before I can progress further. We must 
be freed from all earth-vibrations before we can go 
on. The mind carries too many memories for me 
to get free. I must write out my book and my 
stories before I can get beyond the earth-vibrations 
which keep me here. So you see how grateful I am 
to you for the work you are doing for me. You 
will gain much knowledge and wisdom from this as 
well as financial help. 

Frank R> Stockton. 



260 Letters From Mr. Stockton 

August 5th, 1909. 
My dear Madam : 

You will find some publisher, 1 am sure, who will 
jump at the unusual feature of this — the work of an 
author written since he passed out of the body. 

You will see what a controversy this book, and 
the question of whether it is the work of your own 
mind or really is my mind dictating to you through 
your subconscious mind, is bound to create among 
people of all classes and beliefs. 

While it presents a startling idea to those who 
have hitherto believed that all work stopped at death, 
it proves that a man or woman is just as capable of 
dictating his or her affairs from this plane as either 
were while on earth, providing, of course, that the 
right medium is found through whom to work- 

For years I searched for the right one to work 
through in order to relieve my mind of these stories 
and advance to another plane. 

I am very fortunate in finding you, my dear 
madam, as you are sensitive to my vibrations, and 
so I reach you easily. We are in perfect accord 
and, together, will do a great work, an d teach the 
old world what can be done even after the so-called 
end of man. It is not the end but the beginning of 
greater knowledge and power. 

Frank R- Stockton. 



Letters From Mr. Stockton 261 

My, dear Madam: August 7th, \W. 

Do not be at all disturbed over the way the story 
seems to be turning out, the responsibility is mine, 
not yours, so do not let it disturb your mind or we 
cannot get the best results. It affects the vibrations, 
the connection becomes weakened, and the subcon- 
ciousness which takes down my thoughts become 
confused and less clear. Do not try to think at all 
while writing, it is bad for both of us. The best 
results cannot be obtained when the conscious mind 
interferes with the subconscious. Try and £eep as 
quiet as possible and let the pencil write what it 
will, believing there is a brain guiding it. 

Frank R. Stockton. 



.. , ., , August 8th, 1909. 

My dear Madam: 

You must trust to my being able to write out a 
story clearly and not make a mistake in the ending, 
so let it be taken down as I dictate. While you may 
not see the connection or reason for it all, go on and 
do not be afraid of any blunder being made that 
Would ruin the story. I assure you I am more anx- 
ious that the stories be taken down correctly than 
you can be, for they are my stories and I have a 
reputation as an author, while you have none. 

Frank R- Stockton. 



262 Letters From Mr. Stockton 

August Wth, 1909. 
My dear Madam : 

Wait until my story is finished before you con- 
demn it as you do. The thing for you to do is to 
write it all now and criticize it when finished. There 
is no possible way of your knowing what I have in 
my mind, so please k ee P as quiet as you can and 
then we will do better work. 

Frank R. Stockton. 



August Wth, 1909. 
My dear Madam : 

My strong point is the way 1 twist and turn the 
story, leading the reader on to believe it will end in 
some conventional manner, then turning it about in a 
totally unihought-of way. These stories should be 
recognized as mine on that account. I am sure they 
will be. I am glad you are pleased with the story, 
now that you see the ending. The struggle for me 
to overcome the opposition of your conscious mind 
has been very great. The strain on you has been 
severe, also. 1 hope now you will never again ques- 
tion anything I dictate. The less you think about 
the story the easier it will be for both of us, for I 
will not have your conscious mind to combat, and 
nil will then run much smoother. The main thing 



Letters From Mr. Stockton 263 

is for you to relax mentally in order to £eep the 
conscious mind from interfering with the subconscious 
mind through which I write. We will now finish our 
story, then you must rest until Sunday, when we will 
begin our boo}?. 

Frank R. Stockton. 

On Sunday, August 2\st, 1909, the book "Pi- 
rates Three" was begun. 

Etta de Camp. 



September 3rd, 1909. 
My dear Madam : 

The story we are writing now is full of humor, 
so it is bound to be accepted. You let your mind 
be perfectly quiet on this point and I will do my 
part. The publishers are all anxious to get a salable 
book and this will be salable, both for its strange 
source and originality of plot. The conception of 
such a wonderful thing as my writing through you 
is very hard for the average person to believe. The 
taking down of my stories by means of my mind 
force having the same vibrations as yours is a rather 
startling statement to make, and it is not to be won- 
dered at that so few believe you, but you will soon 
convince the public. 

Frank R. Stockton. 



264 Letters From Mr. Stockton 

November Is/, 1909. 
My dear Madam : 

I will go on from where we left off, so do not 
worry about that. I am sure you will find someone 
who will believe you and publish my stories under 
my name. I am anxious the world should know I 
am still writing, and through you. We must not 
give up. I am very sure you will have no trouble 
with the book, "Pirates Three," which we are now 
writing. I will do all I can to aid you, but cannot 
allow the work of my brain to be given your name. 
I am, as you £non>, deeply grateful to you for the 
work you do, but the stories are mine and as such 
they must be published. The idea is too improbable 
for some people to believe at first, but they will in 
good time, so please do not grow tired and leave me 
just as we are in the midst of the story that will con- 
vince the public. Try and be more hopeful. Now, 
We will continue where we left of. 

Frank R. Stockton. 



November 22nd, 1909. 
My dear Madam : 

I should like very much to accommodate you, my 
dear madam, by allowing you to submit my stories 
under another name, but cannot bring myself to do 
it. These stories are not yours nor do they belong 



Letters From Mr. Stockton 265 

to anyone living on your plane. They are mine and 
1 shall never consent to their being sold under any 
other name. 

The whole value of the work we are doing would 
be lost. Do not destroy what you and I have worked 
so hard to accomplish. This is my final plea if you 
wish to go on with the task. 

Frank R. Stockton. 

Mv dear Madam: M> 18*. 1910. 

/ hope you will be remunerated for your work on 
my book, as you have made it possible for me to 
continue my work through your hand. I want you 
to get all the money you can from my stories, but I 
think it on h fair <*nd just t as they are the work of 
my brain and not yours, that you pay to my estate t 
ten per cent, of the profits. 

You will become famous through this work and 
your name known far and wide as my secretary, 
which would not have any importance attached to 
it if I were still on your plane. 

You are always ready to write for me, my dear 
madam, and I appreciate your kindness. You are 
not very strong, so you must take great care of your- 
self. When you do not feel able to write, just say 
so, and I will understand. We will now go on with 

ihe sior »' Frank R. Stockton. 



266 Letters From Mr. Stockton 

My dear Madam : A P ril 26th > ]9]L 

My hopes are high since your interview with the 
gentleman yesterday. What a wonderful work you 
and I will have been permitted to do, if we can 
demonstrate to the world what can be done after a 
man passes out of the earth-plane into other condi~ 
tions, and yet, why is it so hard to convince men that 
the individuality of the man is not changed when it 
leaves the body? Why should my desire to continue 
writing stories be so strange ? We are just the same 
here as we were before we came. I can assure you, 
my dear madam, I much prefer to have the many 
friends I made through my stories in the old days, 
think °f me as m hf e — busy writing stories with 
which to amuse them rather than to imagine me try- 
ing to master the mysteries of the harp. 

No, my dear madam, I want the public to £non> 
Frank R. Stockton is still able to write stories and 
not wasting his time playing a harp. My only talent 
was writing frivolous stories and I have still many 
more in my brain to be gotten rid of, and with your 
kind help I will be able to do it. Let me know when 
you are ready to go on with my hook, "Pirates 
Three. 9 * We must get that out of the way as soon 
as possible. You deserve all the fame that will come 
to you through this work, my dear madam. Good- 
bye for a little while. p rank R< Stockton. 



Letters From Mr. Stockton 267 

My dear Madam: July 25th, 1911. 

You see I have become impatient. I did not want 
to bother you before you were ready, but the time 
has been so long since we have written any on the 
story, and I am anxious to finish it as soon as possible. 

What a shock these stories will be to the people 
who think that, because we are out of the body, we 
have gone to a place where the things that interested 
us in life are forgotten. I can assure you this is not 
so. The condition I am in now is much like yours, 
and we who are here on this plane can go on with 
our work until finished, then progress to the next. 

The stories that I write now probably seem too 
frivolous to have been thought out since I passed 
from the body because people have such a mistaken 
idea regarding the life here. They think we change 
temperament and personality when we change our 
condition, but we do not, and the fact that we are 
not changed into entirely different beings as soon as 
we leave the body is what I am trying to prove to 
the world through my stories. 

I am as able to think out a story having humorous 
situations as I ever was, for I still have the same 
mind which works in the same way. I am no more 
capable of writing serious stuff now than when in 
the body, and if these stories were not written in a 
humorous style they would not be recognized as 
mine. Frank R. Stockton. 



268 Letters From Mr. Stockton 

September Mth, 1911. 
My dear Madam: 

We are going to ma\e the good people believk 
us yet. 

How surprised the members of my family will be 
when they hear what I am up to now. 

Think of what you are responsible for in thus 
bringing me before the public again. "The Lady 
or the Tiger" did not create any more discussion 
than this will. But I must not put all the responsi- 
bility for my re-appearance on you for you did not 
know until I reached you that J was trying to find 
someone to write my stories for me, in order that I 
could carry out the work I wanted to do before J 
passed on to the next plane. 

We will see what the world says when my book 
comes out. I realize it will upset the ideas of some 
people about what they have been taught to believe 
is the future state of mankind. I think it is time for 
people to know the truth. 

My book will prove the continuity of life after 
death and the ability for all to go on with their 
work from here, providing they find those on the 
earth plane who can help them. 

You see what a work y° u are doing through me. 

Frank R. Stockton. 



Letters From Mr. Stockton 269 

September 23rd, 191 1. 
My dear Madam: 

Now that you see how much closer the connection 
is, as we write each day, you need not worry about 
the way the story may be turning out. You keep 
your mind passive and I will do the rest. 

You will write for other authors who are anxious- 
ly waiting for me to finish my work to give them a 
chance. There are many on this plane who wish to 
let the world know they are the same as ever. Some 
of them are the greatest writers of the age, so you 
will find yourself writing a much higher grade of 
literature than my poor brain conceives. But then 
I never attempted to do anything but to amuse the 
public. I feel, about my own work, when in the 
presence of fhese great ones, like the clown at the 
circus who does not even aspire to be the ring-master 
who cracks the whip and tells the clown when to 
make the people laugh. 

The world laughs with the clown and applauds 
him as well, but never gives a thought of the brains 
it takes to be a fool. 

And so the clown came first to open up the way 
for the great ones to follow, and make it easier 
for you, now that you have learned the conditions 
under which to write. 

Frank R. Stockton. 



270 Letters From Mr. Stockton 

October 3rd, 1911. 
My dear Madam: 

With our writing each day we will soon finish the 
hool^. Try and £eep as quiet in your mind as pos- 
sible so we can finish it, for it has now been long 
drawn out, owing to the fact that we have had many 
interruptions. I am as anxious to get it out of the 
Way as you are. It will relieve my mind and demon- 
strate a great fact that will help scientific investi- 
gation. 

I defy anyone to show that these stories do not\ 
contain my peculiarities and characteristics, taking 
into consideration, of course, the conditions under 
which they are written and that the way in 
which it is done is new to both of us. This must 
of course make some difference, but I guess we have 
enough of the old humor and peculiar situations to 
convince the public that these stories are mine — that 
I, Frank R. Stockton, wrote them from this plane. 

My dear madam, this is not getting to our work* 
but I feel the necessity of backing up my stories with 
as much vigor as possible, for now, that you are about 
to give them to the world, I appreciate your position 
more ^een/j;, standing as you do absolutely alone 
and hurling this startling statement among the read- 
ing critics — that a man who passed out of sight some 
years ago has, through you, not only come back, but 



Letters From Mr. Stockton 271 

been able to write the same style of stories as before. 
You are taking a brave stand with your statement 
of facts, and apparently to some, with only your 

own word to back y° u U P m ^ ne f ace °f ^ ne ^ orm 
of criticism and even ridicule which is bound to fol- 
low. This I feel strongly and I appreciate the lone- 
liness of your position, and so am trying to make 
myself positive through my stories in order to help 
you all I can. There will be some who will believe 
us, but the multitude will jeer; for it is true that only 
you, on the earth plane, can know the truth of these 
statements, but we are strong enough to stand by 
them in the face of all opposition. 

The money you will make through these stories 
may compensate you for your work, but I can never 
repay you for the time and strength you have given 
me. 

Frank R. Stockton. 



January \5th, 1912. 
My dear Madam: 

We will continue my other story which is unfin- 
ished, as soon as possible, then I feel Frank R. 
Stockton has done enough to establish his identity 
to the world, and has proven his statement thai men 
can go on with their work here if they are fortunate 
enough to find some one to work through, as I have. 



272 Letters From Mr. Stockton 

So when the book w finished and the last short story 
is ended, I will feel my part is accomplished, and 
it is time for me to make my bow and walk off the 
tan-bark an( L draw the curtain. The clown must 
then give way to the great ones of world renowned 
fame who are restlessly pacing back an d forth wait- 
ing for the curtain, which closed behind them when 
they passed out many years ago, to open again in 
order that they may come forth and prove to the 
world as I have that they are still alive and have 
kept their identity, characteristics and desire for work 
the same as before. 

I feel very grateful to you, indeed, my dear mad- 
am, for your help, and hope for your sake that my 
stories will attract attention and recompense you 
abundantly for your work. Do not fail to reserve 
ten per cent, of the profits for my estate, as I feel it 
should receive something from the sale of the stories 
written since I passed into this life, the same as from 
the stories I wrote before. I know / can depend on 
you to do this, and I feel that the members of my 
family are entitled to some further recognition from 
me. It may seem an odd idea, but I feel it will help 
prove my identity and my claim that these stories 
are mine, to claim a share of the profits of my work 
for my estate, but it is only just and fair. 

This is a wonderful work you are called upon to 



Letters From Mr. Stockton 273 

do, one that "will give you world-wide fame as many 
who are waiting to write through you come from 
across the sea, and this will likely take you there as 
they wish to be in the same environment when they 
write again, as before. Now you see the work 
planned out for you from this plane. We will not 
go over the remaining chapters again just now as any 
minor corrections necessary can be made after you 
have read it aloud, which will give me the whole 
effect since it has been revised. You will know when 
I am ready to go on. 

Frank R- Stockton. 



April \st, 1912. 
My dear Madam: 

My mind is full of situations and plots which I 
will be only too glad to work m to stories for you, but 
the world must accept them as mine, and, when it 
grows wiser as to the laws by which we work, it will 
cease to scoff and call you a fake and me a myth 
grown out of your imagination. 

Never mind, my dear madam, you and I must go 
on with the work assigned to us, that is, demonstrat- 
ing to the world what can be done through natures 
laws as yet almost unknown. 

What you say about the English stories and 
atmosphere is no doubt true, so I shall try and get 



274 Letters From Mr. Stockton 

back to my old style and environments. We must 
now get to wor^ an ^ keep U P the close connection in 
order that I may give you the best results. We will 
now write another short story and put my old style, 
or humor (I call it style) into it so the world will 
recognize me more readily. We will now begin. 

Frank R. Stockton. 



April 2nd, 1912. 
My dear Madam: 

What we must do now is to keep u p a close con' 
nection. This can only be done by your not allow- 
ing anything to disturb you or interfere with the time 
set aside for your work- 

This is of great importance to us both and is in 
the nature of a religious duty. I may use that word 
to express myself, for you and I are preaching a 
great truth to the world when we demonstrate 
through our work the continuity of life. 

We are, like all pioneers in any new work, making 
a pathway through the woods of superstition, preju- 
dice and unbelief, so must expect obstacles on all 
sides. But if we keep our own purpose clearly be- 
fore us, and hammer away at the old world hard 
enough, it will at last wake up and want to know 
what we are making so much noise about. Then it 



Letters From Mr. Stockton 275 

may listen to us and believe. But at present it is 
asleep to this great truth, so it is our duty to pound 
away and make such a racket it will have to awake 
because we will not let it sleep any longer. 

Keep yourself in as passive a state as possible, my 
dear madam, remembering you are in the hands of 
a higher power who will work ou t °^l things for you. 
We will go on with the story, which I am glad 
pleases you. 

Frank R. Stockton. 



April 2] st, 1912. 
My dear Madam: 

We will give the public something to marvel at 
yet. If it does not recognize these stories as mine I 
must go farther back m the old style which pleased 
them, and my literary efforts along new lines must 
wait until I have proved my identity. It is not 
always easy to recognize old friends in new clothes, 
especially at a distance, and there must be no mis" 
take about who it is. 

Frank H. Stockton. 



276 Letters From Mr. Stockton 

My dear Madam : May \st, 1912. 

Have I not been preaching that theory from the 
beginning, that in order to do good work the con- 
nection must not be broken. We have novo reached 
the point where the writing flows freely and I am 
anxious to keep this connection for it enables me to 
get my thoughts through clearly. 

We will write a few more short stories before we 
attempt the book which I have in mind and which 
must bear all the ear-marks of me, or else the critic 
will not believe us. 

We must be sure, my dear madam, that we have 
the very best we can get under these conditions be- 
fore we place any more before the public and the 
skeptic. 

I, in my confidence, thought the public would take 
my word, that these stories were the work of 
my brain, for I believed they contained enough of 
my characteristics to be recognized as my own, but 
if not, with the closer connection we have now I am 
sure I shall be able to do such work as will silence 
the "doubting Thomases' 1 for all time. So, please, 
for your sake as well as mine, do not let anything 
interfere with our regular work each morning. 

Time and distance are unknown here, so wher- 
ever you are 1 can be, and go on with our work os 
usual. Frank R. Stockton. 



Letters From Mr. Stockton 277 

May 20th, 1912. 
My dear Madam : 

We will get these short stories out of the way 
before we begin my book, then m $ Work 
will be finished and I can retire from the center of 
the stage where I have been so long trying to make 
the audience recognize me. 

I will do the best I can under the conditions, then 
let the world judge by my work- 

Keep up your courage; we will make the world 
believe us, in spite of the critic and the skeptic who 
must have something to scoff at, and are as anxious to 
find something on which to work °ff their sarcasm 
and utilize their brilliant wit as I am to write a 
story that will convince the world that I am still 
writing. And so we must be impervious to all 
criticisms. Each man has his own work to do. We 
each see life from a different standpoint and with the 
developed mentality comes breadth of mind, which 
in turn makes us charitable to all men. 

Frank R. Stockton. 

June Qth, 1912. 
My dear Madam: 

You must have more confidence in those who have 
placed this work upon you. They have planned it 
to convince the skeptic that man does live on, pre- 



278 Letters From Mr. Stockton 

serving the same personality and peeping the con' 
scious mind as before. If you will rely absolutely 
on their care and protection of the instrument they 
are using, you will give them stronger evidence of 
your own belief that this work, which has been given 
you to do, is a great one. 

It has taken more hard work on my part than you 
realize to get through the subconscious mind, be- 
cause of the unconscious struggle on your part to 
resist. In forcing my way through your conscious 
mind I carried with me at first fragments of your 
conscious mind. This could not be avoided until the 
way was cleared of all matter which made it difficult 
for me to reach the physical world — just as a stream 
of water forcing itself through a new fissure in the 
mountain side carries with it at first, rocks, mud, etc. t 
until the sides of the channel through which it flows 
are worn smooth so that the water comes forth with 
crystal clearness. 

This is the best explanation I can make as to how 
I Work through you and the conditions I hove had 
to overcome. The clearness with which my thoughts 
reach the world depends upon the condition of your 
subconscious and conscious minds at the time. If 
they are disturbed and the vibrations effect the pass- 
age through which I come, it will be similar to the 
disturbance of the channel through which the water 



Letters From Mr. Stockton 279 

flows and the action of the conscious mind produces 
other thoughts and words, rendering the work diffi- 
cult and the results unsatisfactory. So you will see 
that great care must be used when we deal with these 
higher laws and finer forces. 

Well now, my dear madam, this is a long preach- 
ment for me. I am not given to such usually, but I 
wanted you to understand more clearly the way in 
which I write through you. 

See if, now, by shutting out all thoughts of out- 
side conditions when you write, and by keeping your- 
self passive and the way clear, I can get myself 
through strongly, so that the world will recognize 
me and cause even the skeptic to realize there may 
be more truth than fiction in our statement that these 
stories are mine and written from this plane. 

Frank R. Stockton. 

June \8th, 1912. 
My dear Madam: 

We will now begin another short story as you 
will need greater peace of mind regarding material 
things before I can begin my book- You also need 
more stories from which to make selections. 
The brain grows weary at times, and does not work 
up to the standard I had hoped for. Under these 
conditions it is very hard to obtain good results. 



280 Letters From Mr. Stockton 

There are so many disturbing influences to overcome 
which, UJ^e the elements of the atmosphere, often 
affect and interrupt the free passage of the wireless 
telegraph on your plane. 

So far my work has not been what I want it to 
be in finish and style but it will improve as these 
conditions are overcome. 

You on your side £eep as passive as you can and 
I will try and get through as clearly as possible so 
the results may be all we could wish for. 

Frank R> Stockton. 



July \7th, 1912. 
My dear Madam: 

My work from this plane and under these con- 
ditions is very hard because of the fact we are each 
on different planes and controlled by different con- 
ditions. 

Composing stories and sending them through the 
veil between this plane and yours, to reach your 
world with accuracy, means using a tremendous force 
which the earth people will appreciate some day. 
Whenever messages are sent through a new form of 
communication, and before the instruments at both 
ends of the line are properly adjusted and work 
smoothly together, imperfections are bound to occur. 



Letters From Mr. Stockton 281 

With these facts before him the critic should cease 
to sneer and be more lenient in his judgment of work 
done by and through laws not yet understood by 
man. 

There will be some who will believe us with all 
the faults in the style and finish of these stories, so 
that our work will not be lost. Even if we can con- 
vince but a few of the continuity of life, we will have 
done a great work- 

Frank R. Stockton, 



"But the manifestation of the Spirit is given to every 
man to profit withal. 

"For to one is given by the Spirit the word of wisdom; 
to another the word of knowledge by the same spirit; 

"To another, faith by the same Spirit; to another the 
gifts of healing by the same Spirit; 

"To another, the working of miracles; to another 
prophecy; to another, discerning of spirits; to another, 
divers kinds of tongues; to another, the interpretation of 
tongues ; 

"But all these worketh that one and the self-same Spirit, 
dividing to every man severally as he will." — i Corin. XII. 



WHY I KNOW FRANK R. STOCKTON 
WRITES THROUGH ME 



Why I Know Frank R. Stockton 
Writes Through Me 

Early in the year 1909 I was teaching seven 
hours each day, and my time was so taken 
up with material affairs that I had no thought for 
scientific matters. Certainly, anything psychic was 
the farthest from my mind. After a busy day 
in the latter part of January, and while resting 
before dinner, I picked up an evening paper. My 
attention was attracted to a few lines announcing 
that a book had been written by William T. Stead 
of London, giving his experience as an automatic 
writer. I laid the paper down and began to think. 

I wondered what was meant by automatic 
writing. I determined to find out if possible, so, 
picking up a pad and pencil, I held the pencil on 
the pad and with intense interest I waited results. 

At first nothing happened, then suddenly I felt 
a thrill go from my shoulder to my finger tips as 
though I had touched an electric battery. To my 
utter amazement the pencil began to move. I 
watched it, fascinated, for I was absolutely sure I 



286 Why I Know Frank R. Stockton 

was not moving it myself. It seemed as though my 
arm and hand had become detached from my body 
and did not belong to me. 

The hand moved easily and swiftly at first 
making nothing but circles and scrolls. After a 
few sheets of circles the action and lines changed 
to those of rapidly written words, but so irregular 
that nothing at all was legible. 

Dinner being announced, I laid the sheets away 
in a drawer. 

I did not mention to anyone what had happened, 
but at the same hour on the next day I took up 
the pad and pencil with similar results — the writing 
of apparent but illegible words. I again saved the 
sheets and refrained from mentioning my experience. 

The third night when I sat again and the hand 
began to write in the same way, I said aloud: "If 
there is a spirit here who would like to communi- 
cate with me he must write more legibly." 

After that I began to distinguish such words as 
"and," "the," "farm," etc., and the writing soon 
became readable and expressed thought. 

I received messages from one who claimed to be 
an Indian called "Blackfoot." Then messages 
came from one signing himself "Lafayette," 
whether the well-known Lafayette or another I do 
not know. For a time I received many messages 



Writes Through Me 287 

from another Indian who signed the name, "Three 
Feathers." 

It was not until after the third sitting that I 
spoke to anyone of my experience. I related the 
occurrence to a friend, a man of brilliant mind. He 
begged me not to touch the pencil again. But my 
curiosity was aroused. I felt, beyond the shadow 
of a doubt, I had in some way come in contact 
with a great and wonderful truth. It interested me 
to such an extent that I determined to go on and 
find to what it would lead, and what I could learn, 
if anything, from this source, of the conditions of 
life after one passes through the change called death. 
I therefore continued my investigations in spite of 
every argument to the contrary, which my friends 
brought to bear concerning the subject. 

During the first part of March, I received several 
messages from my father who had passed away 
twelve years before. These . messages were all to 
my mother, and concerned many things of which 
I knew nothing whatever, being absent from home 
when the events occurred. Later, they were all 
corroborated by my mother as being true. He 
continued to send messages for a few weeks, when 
the spirit who used my hand told me that my 
fathers messages must cease, for being sent to my 
mother, they caused a cross-current (whatever that 



288 Why I Knor» Frank R. Stockton 

may be) which I was not strong enough to en- 
dure. I have not had a message from him since, 
but am often conscious of his presence. 

On March 23, 1909, while the hand (I feel I 
can hardly call it my hand) was writing, it wrote: 
"We will bring you the spirit of an author who 
wishes his stories written." Nothing as to who the 
author was, or anything about him or his work was 
volunteered at that time. 

The next night, however, when I sat for writing 
I was curious to know if they remembered what 
they had said about the author and if they would 
bring him to me. I did not ask for him or say 
anything about it. After writing on other subjects 
for a while, a sudden break occurred in the midst 
of a sentence and my hand wrote : 

"The spirit of the author, who wishes his stories 
written, is here. His name is Frank R. Stockton." 

Then the handwriting changed and this was 
written: "I am Frank R. Stockton. I have many 
stories I wish written out. I am glad I can write 
them through you. I have one I wish to write 
called 'What Did I Do with My Wife?* We will 
go on with it now." 

At that moment I was taken with an intense pain 
in the forehead between the eyes; and I felt a sen- 
sation in the left side of my head as though another 



Writes Through Me 289 

mind was crowding into my own. For a few 
minutes the agony was so great that I got up and 
walked the floor, crying aloud: 

"I cannot stand this. I cannot write for you if 
I have to suffer in this way." 

I was really fearful that I should lose my mind 
if it continued. Fortunately, it lasted only a short 
time and was caused, it seemed to me, by the 
shock produced when Mr. Stockton's mentality 
first assumed control of my nerves, muscles or hand. 
The pain grew less and it did not appear again 
after the second story. 

The first story was written at one sitting. It 
was merely an outline, as was the second. Both 
seemed to me excellent, and I thought they would 
make good stories if completed, but having no 
creative literary ability myself, I could do nothing 
with the stories if they continued to come in that 
form, and I so told Mr. Stockton. He then wrote : 
"Go on, the oftener you write the closer the con- 
nection will be, and the stories will grow clearer 
and be more filled out." This has proven true as 
the stories will show. 

At the beginning of these experiences, those who 
wrote with my hand informed me that it was through 
the law of vibration they reached me. This I felt 
to be true as I was very sensitive to a force which 



290 Wfo I Know Frank R. Stockton 

seemed to strike me from the outside, approaching 
me on my left and darting over me like rays of 
light. 

I remember as a child being affected by atmos- 
pheric changes to such an extent that I was conscious 
of an electrical storm hours before it arrived, due 
I believe to the fact that my nerves have always 
been abnormally sensitive. They seem to be on the 
outside, as it were, entirely uncovered and exposed, 
so that I am affected by all disturbed conditions of 
the atmosphere or changes of climate. 

I believe it is through these very sensitive nerves, 
which at times seem to stretch out beyond my phys- 
ical body like invisible wires, that I receive the 
vibrations from the mind force of those writing 
through me; and as the sensitive instrument of the 
wireless telegraph receives the electric vibrations 
sent over thousands of miles, so I, it seems to me, 
receive the thought-waves of those on another plane 
whose vibrations harmonize with my own. 

From the first I fought off the trance condition; 
nevertheless when writing I am in an abormal state, 
with every nerve so keyed to catch the vibrations, 
that the slightest noise sounds like the firing of a 
cannon. I was obliged to write in a darkened 
room, as light, being a vibration, disturbed me while 
in that condition. The writing is done while my 



Writes Through Me 291 

conscious mind is keen, critical and alert, and yet 
I have absolutely no knowledge of what the next 
word is to be until it appears upon the paper. 

The best illustration I can give as to how the 
stories are written is this: When I saw the title of 
one of the stories called "Who Said We Were 
Drunk?" being written out, and when the hand 
reached the letter "d" after the word "were" my 
conscious mind, quick as a flash, thought, he has 
made a mistake this time and is not going to give 
me a story, but an article on "Who Said We Were 
Dead?"; but the hand calmly wrote the word 
"drunk," showing that my conscious mind had no 
control over my hand at the time. 

When I lay the pencil down all connection is cut 
off, the same as when one hangs up the receiver of 
a telephone, and not one word, line or even the 
names of the stories come to me in any way until 
the work is again taken up. 

A remarkable feature of the stories is that dur- 
ing the writing, although days, weeks and even 
months have passed between the sittings, the pencil 
has never failed to continue the story without a 
break, as if no time had intervened. 

Another remarkable feature of this work, for the 
skeptic to consider and of interest to any writer 
writing under normal condition is, that the char- 



292 Why / Know Frank R- Stockton 

acters and situations which are described in these 
stories are never seen by me in my imagination; 
therefore I never know whether the actors are light 
or dark — short or tall, fat or thin unless the hand 
writes that they are. It is also very remarkable, 
that with very little description if any, how life- 
like and real these characters are. This fact alone 
shows an unusual talent, that of bringing them so 
vividly before the reader without a detailed de- 
scription of thejr personal appearance. 

After the second story was finished I did as Mr. 
Stockton suggested and wrote for him an hour or 
two each morning whenever possible, and always 
at the same time. I found, if for any reason it was 
impossible for me to write at that time, I would ex- 
perience intense pain just back of both ears. At 
first I did not know what this meant, but felt it 
was in some way connected with the writing. 

Professor Hyslop informed me, when I related 
the fact to him, that no one had as yet discovered 
the connection between the pain behind the ears and 
the writing, but said that if, whenever I found I 
should not be able to write at the usual hour, I 
would speak aloud, to Mr. Stockton or whoever 
wanted to write, and tell him at what hour I should 
be ready, the pain would disappear. This later 
proved true. 



Writes Through Me 293 

To me the pain comes as a signal that some one 
is ready to write. If I happen to be busy at that 
particular time I simply say so aloud and state when 
I shall be ready. The pain goes away, but 
promptly appears at the day and hour I have named, 
as if to remind me that it is time to write. 

Other matters often interfere with the regular 
hour of writing. If more than a week has elapsed 
between the writings, I begin to suffer intensely from 
a disturbed state of the entire nervous system, ac- 
companied by severe indigestion. On resuming the 
regular work all these unpleasant conditions im- 
mediately disappear. It is only by experience I 
have learned to trace these objectionable effects to 
their cause, and I do not yet understand the law 
governing the subject. 

In answer to the charge of any one who may say 
that I sit down with pad and pencil and put myself 
into a dreamy or semi- trance condition and imagine 
that entities write through me, I would say that if 
the skeptic were to experience, just once, the phys- 
ical suffering forced upon me, because I am not 
willing to write at a particular time he would change 
his mind very quickly. 

Often, when I have planned a day full of prac- 
tical affairs, with no time for writing, I awaken in 
the morning in a dazed condition as though drugged. 



294 Why I Know Frank R. Stockton 

Everything material seems far away and unreal. I 
feel as though I were enveloped in a thick fog, and 
I am so sensitive to sound that I can scarcely stand 
that of a human voice. Because of the importance 
of my plans for that day, I have often tried with 
all my will-power to fight off this condition, but the 
more I resist the stronger the force becomes until 
I am compelled to take the pencil and write in order 
to get relief, and frequently it will be an hour or 
two after the writing stops before this condition 
passes away and I am entirely back to my normal 
self. 

Those who have delved in psychic phenomena 
claim that there are spirits, on the plane nearest to 
the earth, who delight to masquerade under the 
name of some well-known person who has passed 
out of the body; and it has been suggested that 
this mentality claiming to be the spirit of Frank R. 
Stockton, might be one of these. 

If this be possible — that one spirit can misrepre- 
sent itself to be another — it must be equally possible 
that an honest spirit can honestly represent itself; 
and for many other reasons, I have never for one mo- 
ment doubted the genuineness of the spirit claim- 
ing to be that of Mr. Stockton. The serious ob- 
jects of his return, the development of some higher 
sense enabling me to feel the personality of this 



Writes Through Me 295 

entity so strongly, and to know its characteristics so 
well, makes Mr. Stockton, to me, as real as any- 
one I know in earth-life. 

Previous to my becoming the instrument for his 
work, I did not know Mr. Stockton personally, nor 
had I conversed with anyone who was acquainted 
with him, so I could not have received any im- 
pressions of him through any other source than that 
which I have named. I have recently compared 
his communications with those shown me in the 
"Sketch of His Life," written by his wife after he 
passed out, and it was a great satisfaction to me to 
find how perfectly they agreed. These impressions 
of him had been recorded with the Society of 
Psychical Research long before I read the sketch 
written by Mrs. Stockton or knew of its existence. 

This sketch appeared with Stockton's story, en- 
titled "The Toll-Gate," and was read by me at 
the suggestion of Professor James H. Hyslop, who 
was then writing the article which appeared in the 
April number (1912) of the Journal of Psychical 
Research. He wished to compare my impressions 
of Mr. Stockton, which I received psychically, 
with those of one who had known him intimately. 

My impressions of Mr. Stockton's personality, 
received in this strange way, are those of one digni- 
fied, courteous, gentle of manner, genial and posi- 



296 Why I Know Frank R. Stockton 

tive, yet having a strong sense of humor; and un- 
derlying all a seriousness: this I found was known 
only to those who were close to him in earth life. 
This seriousness is shown strongly in his earnest 
desire to demonstrate through his works the con- 
tinuity of life. 

In the same number of the Journal will be found 
the record of the trip I made to Boston, Massa- 
chusetts, at the request and the expense of the 
Society of Psychical Research. While in Boston 
I had three sittings with Mrs. Chenoweth, a pri- 
vate medium who works only for the Psychical 
Research Society. The trip was proposed by Pro- 
fessor Hyslop, who, knowing this book was to be 
published, thought, if we could have the spirit of 
Mr. Stockton manifest through some other medium, 
identify himself and speak of this work, it would 
add weight to the testimony — that his spirit comes 
and writes through me. 

I was registered at a hotel in Boston under an 
assumed name, so that no one could possibly know 
I was there. I had never met Mrs. Chenoweth 
nor had she heard of me or my work. She did 
not hear my voice nor see me while in her normal 
state, for when I entered and left the room, she was 
in a trance condition. Professor Hyslop was pres- 
ent at all sittings and made a record of what oc- 



Writes Through Me 297 

curred. Mr. Stockton manifested clearly, gave his 
name in full — Francis Richard Stockton. The 
middle name and the correct spelling of the first 
being unknown to either Professor Hyslop or my- 
self, we were obliged to look up the record before 
being assured that the full name was given cor- 
rectly. Mr. Stockton spoke then of his writing 
through another medium, but not in that condition 
(trance). He said he could use my active subcon- 
sciousness with passive normal brain better than 
that of the other one with a sleeping brain. He 
spoke of both the long and short stories which had 
been written through me and of others to come. 
Also, of the nervous, restless condition which he 
often caused me by his desire to write when I was 
not ready. He said he did not make me a medium, 
but that I was a medium before he reached me, and 
that this work had been planned on the spirit plane. 
If I had not given myself to its service, some other 
medium would have been found for its accomplish- 
ment. 

It is unnecessary to go into further detail here. 
I merely state that which I know will convince those 
who have investigated psychic phenomena, and I 
trust will arouse the interest of the skeptic con- 
cerning the personality of this spirit. One has said, 
that as a girl I had, in all probability, read Mr. 



298 Why 1 Know Frank R- Stockton 

Stockton's books and forgotten them, but that they 
had remained stored away in my subconscious mind, 
and that now I hypnotize myself and write stories, 
which resemble those by Mr. Stockton, from my 
former knowledge of his work. If this is true, and 
it be possible for me to write stories in this way, then 
from the depths of my subconscious mind should 
come stories written in the style of the authors of 
whom I was most fond, and whose books I had 
read and reread, such as the works of Thackeray, 
Dickens and Charlotte Bronte, but not those of 
our spirit author, Frank R. Stockton. 

I had never cared for humorous stories even as 
a child, for which reason, I was the least familiar 
with the work of Frank R. Stockton. I have only 
a faint recollection of "The Lady or the Tiger," 
which I read when too young to judge of style, 
simply because so many were trying to guess what 
the ending would be. 

Therefore, when these stories came, I was totally 
unable to judge whether or not they bore any re- 
semblance to his former works, and I avoided read- 
ing his books for comparison as I did not wish my 
conscious mind to have any knowledge of his style. 
Some of the stories were sent to friends of Mr. 
Stockton, as well as to critics familiar with his work. 
It was the opinion of each, to whom they were 



Writes Through Me 299 

submitted, that, in originality of plot and absurd 
situations as well as other important particulars, 
these stories bear a strong resemblance to those 
written during the earth-life of the author. 

If the stories are from my own brain and not 
dictated by an unseen intelligence, why are these 
peculiar conditions necessary, and why must I do 
the work only when in an abnormal state? Do 
all or any authors write under such conditions? 
Please remember that I was a busy practical woman, 
with a clear level head and a logical mind, but 
not an author or story writer when this strange 
experience came to me. 

In spite of all I have been obliged to suffer, 
however, I am proud to have been chosen to help 
Mr. Stockton and those who have promised to fol- 
low him in the great work of demonstrating to 
mankind the continuity of life, and the inter-com- 
munication between its planes of existence. 

"That these stories, now being placed before the 
public as the work of Frank R. Stockton, are not 
more polished or finished in style, may in part I 
believe be the tault of the imperfect instrument 
through whom they came, and to the many and 
long interruptions due to material causes which 
have disturbed the close connection, necessary for 
the best work. I would also refer the reader to 



300 Why I Know Frank R. Stockton 

Mr. Stockton's explanation of causes, in his letters 
to me published in this volume, calling particular 
attention to the last one in the series, dated July 
30, 1912. 

And finally, whatever of discussion or criticism 
this book may cause, I wish to be considered honest 
in my belief, that these stories are from the mind of, 
and are written by, Frank R. Stockton, who has 
used my hand for their production on this physical 
plane. 

Etta de Camp. 



SUMMARY 



"And it shall come to pass afterwards, that I will pour 
out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your 
daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, 
your young men shall see visions;" — Joel II: 28. 



Summary 

Man has hesitated to penetrate the mysterious 
realm of occultism, because superficial investigation 
had led him to conclude it is a land of speculation 
and dreams; but in this twentieth century he has 
become daring. He recognizes now that there is 
no insuperable barrier between him and any of life's 
mysteries. To know all he would, he recognizes 
that he must rend the veil between the Spirit and 
the Material Worlds for he has already convinced 
himself that there are no mysteries in the Universe 
he may not solve. 

Evidently the bridge spanning the great chasm 
between the material and the etherial world is al- 
ready constructed, though but few have developed so 
far as to be able to give the pass word that unlocks 
the doors at its entrance. However, those few are 
increasing their number year by year, and this ad- 
vance guard is now leading the mighty intellectual 
trend which stamps this era as the most wonderful 
in human accomplishment and human unfoldment. 

Convincing proofs of life's deathlessness are now 
being made more formidable from month to month 
by cumulative testimony, so convincing as to force 
acceptance upon all who may read and weigh the 
evidence with unprejudiced minds. 



304 Summary 

It is now becoming a demonstrated reality that 
great writers and great inventors repeatedly receive 
inspiration or aid from sources beyond their range 
of study or experiences. 

In Rev. Dr. Henry Van Dyke*s preface to "The 
Story of the Other Wise Man" he frankly acknowl- 
edges that the story did not arise from his own con- 
sciousness. In his clear frank manner he says: "I 
had studied and loved the curious tales of 'The 
Three Wise Men of the East' as they are told in the 
Golden Legend of Jacobus de Voragine and other 
mediaeval books. But of the Fourth Wise Man 
I had never heard until that night. Then I saw 
him distinctly, moving through the shadows in a 
little circle of light. His countenance was as clear 
as the memory of my father's face as I saw him 
for the last time a few months before. The nar- 
rative of his journeyings and trials and disappoint- 
ments ran without a break, clear cut like a cameo. 
All that I had to do was to follow Artaban, step 
by step, as the tale went on, from the begining to 
the end of his pilgrimage." 

James Whitcomb Riley, after his first draft of 
"The Flying Islands of the Night," was visited 
by a friend who came and described a vision or 
dream that had come to him on a certain evening, 
when in his sleep he seemed to enter Riley's apart- 



Summary 305 

ment and saw Riley busy writing, while strange 
music filled the room with harmony, and fair faces 
came out of the air, floated around, and then joined 
in song. Hardly had he finished when Riley said, 
"It wasn't a dream. It was true every bit of it. 
Just at the hour you mentioned I was doing just as 
you saw me — compelled to write, to transcribe what 
I saw and heard all about me. And that was what 
you too, saw and heard. 

"But I saw and heard more. I have been at 
work ever since and have finished what I shall 
call, 'The Flying Islands of the Night.' But I 
must tone it down ; before it is published I shall have 
to change it greatly. The world would think I had 
lost my senses if I were to publish it just as I got it. 
I could never explain to the world that it was given 
to me by greater powers than we know. Nor, for the 
same reason, may I attempt to explain its message. 
You will know, though. You saw and heard. It 
is wonderful, wonderful." 

If those who have passed out of their physical 
bodies on this planet still retain their individuality 
and are able to come near and mingle with mortals 
in the flesh, may it not be for a purpose which hu- 
man intelligence has not yet fully grasped? May 
they not have discovered that their progress on the 
spiritual plane of life is arrested until they fulfil 



306 Summary 

some mortal desire cherished, yet never realized? 
May not their first surprise, upon arriving there, be 
that they are not detached from the material world ; 
and further, may they not quickly learn that, with 
the aid of mortals, they can accomplish from that 
plane what they failed to complete here, and that the 
realization of their own ideals may yet be known lo 
the world at large? 

Questions like these have been a refrain from 
human lips during the past fifty years. Some have 
found in their experiences, satisfactory replies, but 
the great mass of people in the world are thinking, 
guessing, hoping, doubting still. 

Personally, my experience in occultism had al- 
ready satisfied me that such communications were 
possible and had taught me that spirits come to 
those with whom they as mortals have never been 
associated on the earth-plane. 

These investigations which I had made in psychic 
phenomena and research extended over a period of 
more than twenty years. And I have studied 
hundreds of mediums, in this country, in Europe, 
and in Mexico. A careful record has been kept 
of all important experiences and the results obtained 
through instruction given by entities evincing marked 
intelligence and claiming to be of those who had 
passed through the transition called death, but in 



Summary 307 

fact had only left behind the coarser material body j 
and, by knowledge of super-normal laws, were able 
under certain conditions to approach and speak to 
spirits in mortal form. 

The records of the Psychological Society 
of London, and New York as well, show that it 
has been practically demonstrated that those who 
have passed from this plane of being can speak to 
those here and often give them valuable advice. 
When this demonstration appeared so unmistakably 
and the full meaning of her work dawned upon Miss 
de Camp, she realized the need of assistance from 
some one in publishing such a work. The results 
of my investigation in psychic phenomena being 
called to her attention, a meeting was arranged for 
a discussion of particulars and details with a view 
to printing the letters and stories in book form. 
Miss de Camp stated clearly that this work was 
not the product of her own brain but was received 
through automatic writing, from a source beyond 
her conscious mind and from an intelligence who 
claimed to be Frank R. Stockton. 

My experience with psychic intelligences, on the 
one hand, and the skepticism of the general public 
on the other, naturally made me cautious in under- 
taking the part I was asked to take in this publica- 
tion until I had become satisfied in every particular 



308 Summary 

regarding the genuineness of the way in which these 
stories were obtained and the probable source from 
which they emanated. I have carefully investigated 
every claim, making a personal study of all the con- 
ditions, witnessing the demonstration and proving 
the data given ; and, after carefully and critically ex- 
amining all these manuscripts and learning from 
Miss de Camp, whose honesty and earnestness I 
have never doubted, every detail of this strange un- 
foldment, I find no conclusion possible but that 
Stockton is writing through her. 

Automatic writers are usually conscious of the 
words before writing them, but Miss de Camp evi- 
dently knows nothing of the story or words until 
they are written, showing that while doing this 
writing Miss de Camp's intelligence was not called 
into action. Words did not pass through her men- 
tality and she could not sense the thought, as I 
have explained, until after she saw it express itself 
on paper. In this particular I regard it the most 
unusual experience in automatic writing that has 
come under my observation. 

It is also evident from what Stockton affirms here- 
in, that a spirit on the other side can work only 
through a vibration which is like, or which harmon- 
izes with its own, and it will be noted from Mr. 
Stockton's letters that he found difficulties to over- 



Summary 309 

come, and also that only by degrees did he succeed 
in making this instrument absolutely responsive to 
him that he might carry out his own plans. 

In the New York Herald of Sunday, July 1 1 , 
1909, under the title of, "Amazing Experiences of 
Miss Etta de Camp," one of the short stories re- 
ceived by her in this automatic manner was pub- 
lished together with an interview given by Dr. James 
H. Hyslop. 

In this interview Dr. Hyslop said: "I am led to 
believe that in the writings of Miss de Camp there is 
a striking resemblance to those of the author she 
says she has been in communication with, and that 
this extends to style and to the manner of develop- 
ing the plots. If this is so, just so much more credi- 
bility attaches to her assertions. I know, also, that 
she has received personal messages, some of which 
have contained good evidential matter. By this she 
has established the fact that she is really sensitive to 
spirit control. When both these circumstances are 
taken together and applied to the stories, they assume 
a notable importance in transmitted literature." 

At the time the above interview was written 
the phenomena had been so pronounced that 
the American Society for Psychical Research had 
made arrangements to file all of Miss de Camp's 
original manuscripts in its records. 



3 1 Summary 

It will be noted, particularly in reading Mr. 
Stockton's letters which follow and form a preface 
to the stories in this volume, that he emphatically di- 
rected that all these letters and stories must be 
brought out as his own creations, and that the public 
be told the mystic way in which they had been re- 
ceived. It may be pertinent just here to add that 
Stockton's custom when in life was not to personally 
write his stories but to dictate them. 

From my study of Stockton I find that there was 
not a uniformity of style in all he wrote, and yet 
the letters show that he believed these stories would 
be recognized as coming from him because of their 
style, and the character of the plots. Particularly 
did he seem to feel that these characteristics would 
be patent in the book "Pirates Three." 

Stockton's range covered an extensive mental 
area, and yet the stories that gave him a world-wide 
reputation comprise but a small part of his life's 
work. In short, he did some very ordinary literary 
work, as well as some that lifted talent almost to the 
plane of genius. It also is hinted in Stockton's 
letters, that if man generally believed that com- 
munication between the two worlds was a demon- 
strated proposition, or would become an investi- 
gator he would find himself in a wider field and might 
attain a power far beyond his grandest mental con- 
ceptions. 



Summary 3 1 1 

The Thompson case which has been fully set 
forth in volume three of the Proceedings of the 
American Society for Psychical Research is worthy 
of special mention here. Of this, Dr. Hyslop says : 
"Here was a young man who had no education in 
painting suddenly seized with apparitions and a desire 
to paint. He follows his impressions and paints 
pictures which turn out to have the characteristics 
of the dead artist Gifford whom Mr. Thompson 
did not know to be dead at the time. I resort to 
mediumistic experiments to ascertain whether I can 
prove the identity of the artist, and I do so. The 
apparitions which had haunted Mr. Thompson are 
acknowledged and described by the dead artist 
through psychics other than Mr. Thompson and who 
did not know anything about the facts. The in- 
cidents were here past experiences of Gifford and 
were transmitted as apparently present mental 
phenomena to the mind of Mr. Thompson. He 
actually felt at times as if he were Gifford, and 
this before he knew that Gifford was dead." 

Here then is a parallel case. The artist 
Gifford completes his work from the other world 
through one who had no technical knowledge of 
painting, while Stockton is completing his through 
one who has no inventive literary ability. 

After the reader has reached this point he will 



3 1 2 Summary 

note the momentous question which must arise in 
every intelligent mind: that question is — can one 
continue his work, or complete any work left un- 
finished after he has passed beyond the earth-plane? 

I feel no other conclusion can be arrived at with 
the evidence presented, except that Frank R. Stock- 
ton has indeed brought himself into communication 
with the earth-plane through this human instrument, 
and from that other condition of existence, is fur- 
nishing additional, and I feel incontrovertible, proofs 
of the continuity of life, and that one's work in 
this world does not end with the grave. 

As one reflects on the deductions of men of 
thought throughout the ages and notes the mystic 
experiences that have now become recorded history, 
I can see but one conclusion at which to arrive, and 
that is, to speak most conservatively, that Stockton 
evidently wrote these stories. Some may not accept 
them as the work of the well-known author, and 
at first question if their style reflects Stockton's 
mentality ; but when it is remembered how often it is 
questioned if living authors wrote the stories and 
books ascribed to them, and how they have 
at times been forced to prove their titles to 
authorship, there must be some latitude allowed in 
cases involved in mysticism as is this one now being 
presented. With all growth and experiences come 



Summary 3 1 3 

changes which affect one's style and method, this 
must not be overlooked by the critic, nor the diffi- 
culties of communicating from the etherial to the 
earth-plane. And yet, there is always to be found 
upon profound study of an author, that inexplain- 
able something which stamps it genuine. I feel I 
have found that "inexplainable something" per- 
vading all these stories. 

By carefully examining some of his olcj as 
well as more recent writings and rereading those 
partly familiar to me; by studying his development of 
plots, his peculiarity of expression and style, his por- 
trayal of characters, and his life as understood by 
personal acquaintances, together with my knowledge 
of the phenomena of automatic writing, my conclu- 
sion is confirmed that the statements herein made are 
correct, that the stories are from Frank R. Stockton 
given to the world in the manner described. 

Further delving into this vast subject may prove 
that the connecting link between the great Energy 
of the Universe and man will be found to be these 
entities, souls forever expanding intellectually as new 
lessons are learned on that mystic plane of life. To 
accept this as the truth may mean the acceptance of 
the theory of metempsychosis. Better than that, it 
may lead to the bringing forth of absolute proof of its 
truth. With a broader understanding of human 



314 Summary 

powers and the universal recognition of the Eternal- 
ness of Life will come a clearer vision of the 
mightiness of man. Endless life and endless prog- 
ress must become a fixed belief in human conscious- 
ness before man can commence to recognize his 
godship and his own limitless range. 

Floyd B. Wilson. 



"There are more beings who are invisible than there 
are beings visible, and that the visible and the invisible are 
supplied with means of communicating with each other. 
* * * God has not changed His relations to men, and 
the necessities of human nature are just as urgent as ever. 
If angels talked with mortals from the time of Adam to 
the days succeeding the crucifixion, it is folly to suppose 
that the curtain dropped and we have ever since been left 
without the companionship of a 'cloud of witnesses.' We 
must either throw the Bible overboard as a tissue of imag- 
inery events, or believe, as every generation has believed, 
that the great falsehood of history is that there is 'a bourne 
from whence no traveler returns.' * * * It is useless for 
the Christian to declare that such miracles, if they are mir- 
acles, were confined to the limits of a given period. He 
must accept what happens today as well as what happened 
centuries ago. If God is really a presence in the world then 
he must be a continuously revealing presence. There is a 
kind of absurdity in the statement that He has spoken but 
refuses to do so any more. If He ever spoke it is certainly 
true that he still speaks. * * * It is an inexpressible 
loss to the religious life that we do not realize the radiant 
fact that solicitous and helpful influences are round about 
us in our struggle with circumstances. Every loved one 
who has gone is as conscious of our doubts and fears as 
when he was at our side. Neither his affection nor his 
power to aid has been abated. In a thousand ways un- 
known to us, he gives us strength for the conflict, and 
peace of mind in our perplexity. By unspoken words he 
talks with us, and our soul and his hold intimate commun- 
ion. Were that not true, then our lives would be heavily 
and darkly overshadowed. But it is true, and we are com- 
pelled by many an unexplained experience to believe it. It 
is a doctrine of Holy Wr..; it is verified by the history of 
every home; it is a component part of practical religion; 
it is a statement of fact which redeems us from despair 
and gives us good cheer, because Heaven and we are not 
far apart." 

REV. GEORGE H. HEPWORTH. 



MAR tt IS' 3 



